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F A 'J' II R R () ' L R A R Y A N F) T fl R H K A U 



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PERSONAL SKETCHES 



OF 



HIS 0¥N TIMES 



BY 



SIE JO]^rAH BAKEIiS^GTOK 

JUDGE OF THE HIGH COrRT OF ADMIRALTY IN' IRELAND, ETC. ETC. 




REDFIELD, 



no AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 

1853. 



INTRODUCTION 



The compilation by me of a medley of this description may 
appear rather singular. Indeed, I myself think it so, and had 
got nearly half-way through it hefore I could reasonably ac- 
count for the thing ; more especially as it was by no means 
commenced for mercenary purposes. The fact is, I had long 
since engaged my mind and time on a work of real public im- 
portance ; and so far as that work was circulated, my literary 
ambition was more than gratified -by tlie approbation it re- 
ceived. But it has so ha^ened, tha.t my publishers, one 
after another, have been wanting in the qualification of stabil- 
ity ; a,nd hence, my " Historic Memoirs of Ireland" have been 
lying fast asleep, in their own sheets, on the shelves of three 
successive booksellers or their assignees ; and so ingeniously 
were they scattered about, that I found it impossible for some 
years to collect them. This Vy'as rather provoking, as there 
were circumstances connected with the work, which, be its 
merits what they may, would, in my opinion, have insured it 
an extensive circulation. However, I have at length finished 
the Memoirs in question, which I verily believe are now about 
to be published in reality, and will probably excite sundry 
differences of opinion and shades of. praise or condemnation 
(of both the book and author) among his majesty's liege subjects. 

For the purpose of completing that work, I had lately reas- 
sumed my habit of writing ; and being tired of so serious and 



4 INTKODUOTION. 

responsible a concern as " Memoirs of Ireland and the Union," 
I began to consider what species of employment might lightly 
wear away the long and tedious winter evenings of a demi- 
invalid ; and recollecting that I conld neither live for ever nor 
was sure of being the " last man," I conceived the idea of look- 
ing over and burning a horse-load or two of letters, papers, 
and fragments of all descriptions, which I had been carrying 
abont in old trunks (not choosing to leave them at anybody's 
mercy), and to which I had been perpetually adding. 

The execution of this inflammatory project I immediately 
set about with vast assiduity and corresponding success ; and 
doubtless, with very great advantage to the literary reputation 
of an immense number of my former correspondents as well as 
my ovvii. After having made considerable progress, I found 
that some of. the fragments amused myself, and I therefore 
began to consider Avhether they might not also am.use other 
people.' I was advised to make selections from my store, par- 
ticularly as I had, for near half a century, kept — not a diary 
— but a sort of rambling chronicle, wherein I made notes of 
matters which, from time to tim^e, struck my fancy. Some of 
these memoranda were illegible ; others just sufficient to set 
my memory working ; some were sad, and some were cheerful ; 
some very old, others recent. In fine, I began to select : but 
I soon found that anything like a regular series was out of the 
question ; so I took a heap indiscriminately, picked out the 
subjects that amused me most, wrote a list of their several 
headings, which were very numerous ; and, as his majesty 
pricks for sheriffs, so did I for subjects, and thereby gathered 
as many as I conceived would make two or three volumes. 
My next process was to make up court-dresses for my " Sketches 
and Fragments," such as might facilitate their introduction 
. into respectable company, without observing strict chronologi- 
cal sequence, to which I am aware light readers have a rooted 
aversion. 



mTKODTJCTION. 5 

This laudable occupation served to amuse me and to fill up 
tlie blanks of the winter evenings ; and being finished, the res- 
idue of the papers redeposited, and the trunks locked again, I 
requested the publisher of my *' Historic Memoirs" also to set 
my " Personal Sketches" afloat. This he undertook to do : 
and they are now sent out to the public — the luorld, as it is 
called ; and the reader [gentle reader is too hackneyed a term 
to be employed by me) is fully at liberty to draw from tbem 
whatever deductions he pleases. All I have to say is, that 
the several matters contained herein are neither fictions nor 
essays, but relate to real matters of fact, and personages com- 
posed of flesh and blood. I have aimed at no display of 
either fancy or imagination : nor have I set down long dia- 
logues, which could not j)c>ssibly be recorded except when 
heroes and heroines carried short-hand writers in their pockets, 
which must have been peculiarly inconvenient. In speaking 
oi fancifal matters, by-the-by, I may as well except my own 
opinions on certain subjects here and tliere interspersed, Avhich 
I freely leave to the mercy of any one who is disposed to es- 
teem them visionary. 

However, be it understood, that I by no means intend this 
disclaimer as an assault on — but on the contrary as a dis- 
tinguished compliment to writers and to works of pure im- 
agination, of improbability and impossibility ! inasmuch as 
such works prove an unlimited range of intellect and talent, 
on the part of the authors, for inventing matters of fact that 
never could have occurred, and conversations that never could 
have taken place ; a talent which, when duly cultivated and 
practised for the use of friends and private families, seldom 
fails to bring an author's name into most extensive circtdation ; 
and if perchance he should get himself into any scrape by it, 
nothing is so likely as the exercise of the same talent of inven- 
tion to get him out of it again. 

On the other hand, I must own, even against myself, that 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

the writing of liiere commonplace truths requires no talent 
whatsoever ! it is quite a humdrum straight-forward acquire- 
ment, which any person may attain. Besides, matter of fact 
is not at all in vogue just now : the disrepute under which truth 
in general at present labors, in air departments and branches 
of literature, has put it quite out of fashion even among the 
savans : so that chemistry and mathematics are almost the 
only subjects, on the certainty of which, the " nobility, gentry, 
and the public at large," appear to place any very consider- 
able reliance. 

Having thus, I hope, proved my candor at my own cost, 
the deduction is self-evident — namely, that the imfortunate 
authenticity of these Sketches, must debar them from any com- 
petition with the tales and tattle of unsophisticated invention : 
when, for instance, scandal is ii'ue, it is (as some ladies have 
assured me) considered by the whole sex as scarcely worth 
listening to, and actually requiring at least very considerable 
exaggeration to render it at all amusing ! I therefore greatly 
fear I may not, in this instance, experience so much of their 
favor as I am always anxious to obtain : my only consolation 
is, that when their desire to indulge an amiable appetite for 
scandal is very ardent, they may find ample materials in every 
bookseller's shop and haut-ton society to gratify the passion. 

I feel now necessitated to recur to another pointy and I do 
it at the risk of being accused of egotism. I hope, however, I 
can advance a good reason for my ]3roceeding ; namely, that 
on reading over some of the articles whereof this melange is 
composed, I freely admit, that if I were not very intimately 
acquainted with myself, I might be led at least into a puzzle 
as to the writer's genuine sentiments on many points of the- 
ology and politics. Noav, I Avish, seriously speaking, to avoid, 
on these subjects, all ambiguity ; and therefore, as responsible 
for the opinions put forth in the following Sketches, I beg to 
state, that I consider myself strictly orthodox in both politics 



INTRODrCTION. 7 

and tteology ; tliat is to say, I profess to be a sound protest- 
ant, without bigotry : and an hereditary royalist, without ultra- 
ism. Liberty I love — democracy I hate — fanaticism I de- 
nounce ! These principles I have -erer held and avowed, and 
they are confirmed by time and observation. I own that I 
have been what is generally called a loyalist, and I have been 
also what is generally called a patriot ; but I never was either 
un<iualijiedly ; I always thought, and I think still, that they 
never should and never need be (upon fair principles) opposed 
to each other. I can also see no reason why t-here may not 
be patriot kings as well as patriot subjects ; a patriot minister, 
indeed, may be more problematical. In my public life, I 
have met with but one transaction that even threatened to 
make my patriotism overbalance my loyalty : I allude to the 
purchase and sale of the Irish parliament, called a union, 
which I ever regarded as one of the most flagrant public acts 
of corruption on the records of history, and certainly the most 
mischievous to this empire, except our absiirdities at Vienna. 
I believe very few men sleep the sounder for haying supported 
either the former or the latter measures ; though some, it is 
true, went to sleep a good deal sooner than they expected when 
they carried those measures into execution. 

I must also observe that, as to the detail of politics, I feel 
now very considerable apathy. My day for actual duty is 
past ; and I shall only further allude, as a simple casuist, to 
t^ slang terms ^ in which it has become the fashion to dress 
up the most important subjects of British statistics ; subjects 
on which certain of these Sketches appear to have a remote 
bearing, and on which my ideas may possibly be misunder- 
stood. 

I wish it therefore to be considered as my humble opinion, 
that what, in political slang, is termed radical reform, is, in 
reality proximate revolution : universal suffi-age appears to me 
to be inextinguishable uproar : annual parliaments, nothing less 



8 



INTEODIJOTION. 



tlian periodical hloodsJied. My doubts as a casuist, witli these 
impressions on my mind, must naturally be, how tlie orderly 
folks of Grreat Britain would relish proximate revolution, in- 
extinguishable uproar, and periodical bloodshed ? I do not 
extend the query to the natives of my own country, because, 
since his majesty was there, nobody has taken much notice of 
them ; and besides, the people in Ireland having very little to 
eat and no amusement at all, the aforesaid pastimes might di- 
vert them, or at least their hunger, and of course be extremely 
acceptable to a great body of the population. 

As I also perceive some articles in these Sketches touching 
upon matters relative to popes, catholic countries, &;c., lest 
I may be misconstrued or misrepresented on that head, I beg 
to observe, that I meddle not at all in the controversy of 
catholic emancipation. The doctors employed differ so essen- 
tially in opinion, that, as it frequently falls out on many other 
consultations, they may lose their patient while debating on 
the prescription : in truth, I don't see how the doctors can 
ever agree, as the prescribers must necessarily take the assay, 
and one half of them verily believe that they should be pois- 
oned thereby ! " Among ye be it, blind harpers !" 

I apprehend I have now touched on most of the topics 
which occurred to me as requiring a word of explanation. I 
repeat that this book is only to be considered as a desultory 
melange — the whim of a winter's evening — a mere chance- 
selection. I shall therefore make no sort of apology for inac- 
curacies as to unity of time, for defective connection, or the 
like. It amused my leisure hours ; and if it fortunately 
amuses those of other people, I shall receive a great deal of 
satisfaction. 

Jonah Barrington. 



CONTENTS. 



MY FAMILY COXKECTIOXS. 

Family Mansion described — Library — Garden — Anecdotes of my Family — State of 
Landlord and Tenant in 1760 — The Gout — Isrnorance of the Peasantry — Extraordin- 
ary Anom-aly in the Loyalty and Disloyalty of the Irish Countjy Gentlemen as to 
James I., Charles I.. Charles II., James IL, and William — Ancient Toasts — My Great- 
Grandfather, Colonel John Barrington, hanged on his own Gate ; but saved by 
Edward Doran, Trooper of King James — Irish Customs. Anecdotes, &.c page 19 

ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

My Great-Aunt Elizal>eth — Besieged in her Castle of Moret — My Uncle seized and 
hanged before the Walls — Attempted Abduction of Elizabeth, whose Forces surprise 
the Castle of Reuben — Severe Battle ' 29 

IRISH GENTRY AND THEIR RETAINERS. 

Instances of Attachment formerly of the Lower Orders of Irish to the Gentiy — A 
Field of Corn of my Father's reaped in one Night without his Knowledge — My 
Grandfather's Servants cut a Man's Ears off" by MisintH>rpretation — My Grandfather 
and Grandmother tried for the Fact — Acquitted — The Colliers of Donane — Their Fi- 
deUty at my Election at Ballynakill, 1790 .• 43 

MY EDUCATION. 

My Godfathers — Lord Maryborough — Personal Description and Extraordinaiy Char- 
acter of Mr. Michael Lodge — My Early Education — At Home — At School — jNIy Pri- 
vate Tutor, Rev. P. Crawley, described — Deff'Cts of the University Course — Lord 
Donoughmore's Father — Anecdote of the Vice-Provost — A Country Sportsman's Ed- 
ucation 47 

IRISH DISSIPATION IN 1118. 

The Huntsman's Cottage — Pi-eparations for a Seven-Days' Carousal — A Cock-fisht — 
Welsh Main — Harmony — A Cow and a Hogshead of Wine consumed by the Party — 
Comparison between former Dissipation and that of the Present Day — A Dandy at 
Dinner in Bond Street — Cnptain Parsons Hoye and His Nephew — Character and 
Description of Both — The Nephew Disinherited by His Uncle for Dandyism — Curi- 
ous Anecdote of Dr. Jenkins piercing Admiral Cosby 's Fist 54 

MY BROTHER'S HUNTING-LODGE. 

Waking the Piper — Curious Scene at my Brother's Hunting-Lodge — Joe Kelley's and 
Peter Alley's Heads fastened to the Walls — Operations practised in extricating Them. 61 

CHOICE OF PROFESSION. 

The Army — Irish Volunteers Described — Their Military Ardor — The Author Inocula- 
ted therewith — He grows Cooler — The Church — The ifacult}- — TlieLaw — Objections 
to each — Colonel Barrington removes his Establishment to the Irish Capital — A 
Country Gentleman taking up a City Residence 67 

1^ 



10 CONTENTS. 

MURDER OF CAPTAIN O'FLAHERTY. 

JIurder of Captain O'Flalierty by Mr. lyaiicgan, his Son's Tutor, and Mrs. O'Flalierty— 
The Latter, after betraying her Accomplice, escapes beyond Seas — Trial of Lan- 
egan — He is hanged at Dul)]iii — Tenilic Appearance of his Supposed Ghost to his 
Pupil, David Lander, and tlie Author, at the Temple, in London — Lander nearly dies 
of Flight — Lanegan's Extraordinary Escape — Not even sn.rpeoted in Leland — He 
gets off to France, and enters the Monastery of La Trappe — A Church- Yard An- 
ecdote — My own Superstition nearly fatal to Me 71 

ADOPTION OF THE LAW. 

Marriage of my Eldest Brother — The Bride's-Maid, Miss D. W. — Female Attractions 
not dependent on Personal Beauty — Mutual Attachment — Illustration of the French 
Phrase '• Je ne sais guoi" — Betrothal of the Author, and his Departure for Lon- 
don, to study for the Bar 80 

A DUBLIN BOARDING-HOUSE. 

Sketches of the Company and Inmates — Lord Mountmorris — Lieut. Gam Johnson, R. 
N — Sir John and Lady O'Flaherty — Mrs. Wheeler — Lady and Miss Barry — Memoir 
and Character of Miss Barrj^ afterward Mrs. Baldwin — Ruinous effects of a Diamat- 
ic Education Exemplified — Lord Mountmorris' Duel with the Honorable Francis 
Hely Hutchinson at Donnybrook — His Lordship Wounded — Marquis of Ely, his 
Second .'. 84 

IRISH BEAUTIES. 

Strictures on Change of Manners — Moral Influence of Dress — The Three Beauties — Cu- 
rious Trial respecting Lady M ; Termination favorable to her Ladyship — Inter- 
esting and Affecting Incidents of that Lady's Life — Sir R M , his Charac- 
ter and Cruelty — Lady M mariied against her Will — Quits her Hu.sband — 

Returns — Sir R. mistakes her for a Rebel in his Sleep, and nearly strangles her 91 

PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS. 

The Three Classes of Gentlemen in Ireland desciibed — Irish Poets — Mr. Thomas Flinter 
and D. Henesey — The Bard — Peculiarities of the Peasant.* — Their Ludicrous Misin- 
formation as to Distances accounted for — Civility of a Waiter — Their Equivocation 
and Misd irection of Travellers to Different Places 100 

IRISH INNS. 

Their General Character — Ol'jections commonly made to Them — Answer thereto — 
Sir Charles Vernon's Mimicry — Moll Harding — Accident of nearly a Fatal Nature 
to the Author 106 

FATAL DUEL OF MY BROTHER. 

Duel of my Brother William Barrington with Mr. M'Kenzie — He is killed by his An- 
tagonist's Second, General Gillespie — The General's Character — Tried for Murder 
— Judsre Bradstieet's Charge — Extraordinajy Incidents of the Trial — The Jury ar- 
ranged — The High-Sheiift" (Mr. Lyons) challenged by Mistake — His Hair cut off by 
Hi-nry French Barrington — Exhibited in the Ballroom — The Curl-Club formed — The 
Sheriff quits the country, and never returns — Gillespie goes to India: killed there — 
Observations on his Cenotaph in Westminster Abbey 109 

ENTRANCE INTO PARLIAMENT. 

My First Entrance into the Irish House of Commons — Dinner at Sir John Pamel's — 
Commencement of my Intimacy with Public Men of Celebrity — Maiden Speech — 
I Attack Grattan and Curran — Suicide of Mr. Thoroton — Lord De Blacquiere — His 
Character. - 118 

SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH PARLIAMENT. 

Anecdote of Tottenham in his Boots — Interesting Trial of the Earl of Kingston for 
Murder — Description of the Forms used on that Occasion 12G 



co:NTE^^rs. 11 

THE SEVEX BAR0:N'ETS. 

Sii- John Shiart Hainilton — Sir Richard Musgrave — Sir Edward Newnhnm — Sir Vesey ' 
Colclouuh — Sir P'rederick Flood — Sir John Blacquiere — Sir Boyle Roch^e : his curi- 
oiisBulls — Their Characters and Personal Description — Anecdotes and Bon-uiots — 
Anecdote of the Marquis of Waterford 132 

EXTRAKCE INTO OFFICE. 

The Author firr>t placed in Office by Lord Westmoreland — Mnde K'ng's C.-)urs<^l by 
Lord Clare — J^■alousy of the Bar — Description of Kilivenny Cast'e — Tral of t'ne Earl 
of Ormonde for Outi'age at Kilkennj^ — Acquitted — Author's Conduct — Distinguished 
and Li'.ieral Present from the Eail of Ormonde to the Author, of a Gold Box. and 
his Subsequent Letter 141 

DOCTOR ACHMET BORUMBORAD. 

Singular Anecdotes of Dr. Achmet Borumborad — He proposes to erect Baths in Dub- 
lin, ir. the Turkish Fashion — Obtains Grants from Pailiainent lor that Purpose — The 
Batlis well executed — The Doctor's Banqnet — Ludicrous Anecdote of Nineteen Noble- 
men and Menihers of Parliamrnt falling into his Grand Salt- Water Bath — The Acci- 
dent nearly causes the Ruin of the Doctor and his Establishment — He talis in Love 
with Miss flartigan, and marries her — Sudden IMetamorphosis of the Turk into Mr. 
Patrick Joyce 147 

ALDERMEX OF SKINNERS' ALLEY. 

The Institution of Orangemen — United Irishmen — Protestant Ascendency — Dr. Duigr- 
enan — Origin, Progress, aiid Customs of the Aldermen of Skinners' Alley described 
— f^ieir Revels — Orange Toast, never before published — Tlie Alderme7i throw Mr. 
M-Mahon, an Apothecary, out of a Window fa- Striking the Bust of King William 
— New AssocintioD — Anecdotes of Sir John Bourke and Sir Francis Gould — The Pope's 
Bull of Absolution to Sir Francis G. — Its Delivery suspended till he had taken away 
his Landlady's Daughter — His Death '. 155 

PROCESSION OF THE TRADES. 

Dublin Corporation Anecdotes — Splendid '^•iennial Procession of the Dublin Corpora- 
lion, called Fringes (Franchises) described 162 

IRISH REBELLION. 

Rebellion in IrelRud, in 1798 — Mr. VVaddy's Castle — A Priest cut in two by the Port- 
cullis, and partly eaten by Waddy — Dinner-Party at Lady Colclough's — Names and 
Characters of the Company, includinu Mr. Bagenal Harvey, Cnptain Keogh, <fcc. — 
Most of them executed soon after — Tour through, and State of. County Wextbrd, 
after the Battles and Storming of the Town — Colonel Walpole killed and his Reg- 
iment defeated at Gorey — Unaccountable Circumstance of Captain Keogh's Head 
not decaying 166 

WOLF TONE. 

Counsellor Theobold Wolf Tone — His resemblance to Mr. Croker — He is ordered to 
be Hanged by a Military Ccurt — Gen?r;d Craig attached in Court of Common Pleas — 
Tone's Attempt at Suicide — Crael Suggestion respecting him 174 

DUBLIN ELECTION. 

My Contest for Dublin City — Supported by Graftan, Ponsonby, Plunkett, and Cur- 
ran — Singularity of a Canvass for Dublin — The Election — Curious Incidents— Grat- 
tan's Famous Philippic never before Published — Memoirs of Mr. John Giffard, called 
the " Dog in Office'" — Horish the Chiumey-Sweeper's Bon-mot 177 

ELECTION FOR COUNTY WEXFORD. 

Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan's Contest for County- Wexford, omitted by all his Pseu- 
do-Biogr;iphers — Duel of iMr. Alcock and Mi', Cok-loui:h (Candidates on a Question 
R^'spectil);r Mr. Sheiidan's Poll) — Mr. Cnlclough Killed — A Lamentable Incident — 
Mr. Alcock's Tiial — He afterward eoes Mad rind di^s — His Sister. Miss Alcock, also 
dies a Lunatic in Consequence — Marquis of Ely Tried for an Outrage at Wexford, 
and fined T 185 



12 CONTENTS. 

WEDDED LIFE. 

Lord Clonmeli, Chief-Justice of the Irifh Court of King's Bench — His Character — 
Lady Tyiawly's False Charge against him — Consequent Duel between him and Lord 
Ty rawly — Eclaircissement — Lord Ty rawly and Aiiss Wewitzer — Lord Clonmell's 
Hints " How to Rule a Wile" — Subsequent Conversation with his Lordship at Sir 
John Tydd's 192 

DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MARQUIS OF LONDONDERRY. 

My first Acquaintance with the Duke of Wellington and the late Marquis of London- 
derry, at a Dinner at my own House — Some Memoirs and Anecdotes of the former 
as a Public Man — My close Connection with Government — Lord Clare's Animosity 
to me suspended — Extraordinary Conference between Loi-d Castlereagh, Mr. Cooke, 
and me!«n August, 1798 — Singular Communication — Offers made to me for Succes- 
sion as Solicitor-General — I decline the Terms proposed — Lord Castlereagh's Letter 
to me — Character of Mr. Pelham, now Earl of Chichester 197 

LORD NORBURY. 

Quarrel between Lord Norbury and the Author in the House of Commons — Curran's 
Bon-mot — Dinner at Lord Redesdale's, who attempts being Agreeable, but is an- 
noyed by Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) — Counsellor O'Farrell — Mr. Plunkett 
(present Attorney-General for Ireland), and Lord Redesdale — Lord Norbury and 
Young Burke — His Lordship presides at Carlow Assizes in the Character of Haio- 
thorn - -- 205 

HENRY GRATTAN. 

Mr. Grattan in his Sedan-chair — The Point of Honor — Mr. Egan's gift of Second-sight — 
The Guillotine and Executioner — Colonel Burr, Vice-President of the United States, 
and Mr. Randolph — Mr. Grattan in Masquerade — Death of that Illustrious Patriot, 
and Strictures on his Interment in Westminster Abbey — Letter from the Author to 
his Son, Henry Grattan, Esq .-.. 212 

HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

Lord Aldborough quizzes the Lord-Chanceft)r — Voted a Libeller by the House of 
Peers — His spirited Conduct — Sentenced to Imprisonment in Newgate by the Court 
of King's Bench — Memoirs of Mr. Knaresborough — His Extraordinary Trial — Sen- 
tenced to Death, but transported — Escapes from Botany Bay, returns to England, 
and is committed to Newgate, where he seduces Lady Aldborough's Attendant — 
Prizes in the Lottery — Miss Barton dies in Misery '. 219 

JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 

Sketches of His Character — Personal Descriptini — Lodgings at Carlow— Mr. Curran 
and Mr. Godwin — Scenes in the Cannon Cotfoehouse — Liberality of Mine Host — 
Miss H. in Heroics — Precipitate Retreat — Lord Clancarty — Mr. Curran's Notion of 
his own Prowe.ss — The Di'^qualificatinns of a Wij — Lord and Lady Carleton — Cur- 
ran in 1812 — An Attorney turned Cobi)ler — Curran's Audience of the present King of 
Franco — Strictures, on his Biographers : 227 

THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

Observations on the Law of Libel, jiarticularly in Ireland — " Hoy's Mercury" — Messrs. 
Van Trump and Epaphroditus Dodridge — Former Leniency regarding Cases of 
Libel contrasted with recent Severity — Lord Clonmeli and the Iri.'?h Bar — Mr. Magee, 
of the " Dublin Evening Post" — Festivities on " Fiat Hill" — Theophilus Swift and 
his two Sons — His Duel with the Duke of R,ichmond — The "Monster" — Swift libels 
the Fellows of Dublin University — Hi%Cnrious Trial — Contrast between the English 
and Irish Bar — Mr. James Fitzgerald — Swift is found guilty, and sentenced to New- 
gate — Dr. Burrows, one of the Fellows, afterward libels Mr. Swift, and is convicted 
— Both confined in the same Apartment at Newgate 240 

PULPIT, BAR, AND PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE. 

Biographical and Characteristic Sketch of Dean Kirwan— His Extraordinary Eloquence 
— The Peculiar Powers of Sheridan, Curran, and Grattan, Contrasted — Observations 
on Pulpit, Bar, and Parliamentary Oratory 255 



CONTENTS. 13 

QUEEX CAROLIKE. 

Reception of the late Queen Caroline (then Princess of Wales) at the Drawing-Room 
held after the " Delicate Investigation" — Her Depression and subsequent Levity 
— Queen Charlotte and the Princess compared and contrasted — Reflections on the 
Incidents of that Day and Evening — The Thames on a Vauxhall Night 260 

LORD YELYERT02^^ AIsT) THE BAR. 

Characteristic and Personal Sketches of Three Irish Barristers : Mr. William Fletcher 
(aftervvard Chief-Justice of the Court of Common Pleas), Mr. James Egan (afterward 
Judge of Dublin County), and INIr. Bartholomew Hoare, King's Counsel — Lord Yel- 
verton's Dinner-Party — The Author's Parody — Mr. Egan right by Mistake 264 

MR. I^-ORCOT'S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE. 

The Hollowness of Interested Popularity Illustrated in the Example of Mr. Norcot — 
The Dilemma of a Gamester — The last Resource — The " Faithful" Valet — Mr. Nor- 
cot turns Mohammedan — His Equivocal Destiny 267 

ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

Baron Monckton — Judge Boyd — Judge Henn — Legal Blunder of a Judge, and Curran's 
Bon-Mot thereon — Baron Power — His Suicide — Crosby Morgal's Spirit of Emulation — 
Judge William Johnson — Curious Anecdote between him and the Author — Judge Kelly 
— His Character and Bon-Mots — Ivord Kilwarden — His Character — Murder of Him 
and his Nephew the Rev. Mr. Wolfe — xMr. Emmet Executed — Memoir of that Person 
— Judge Robert Johnson — Arrested in Ireland, and Tried in London, for a Libel 
written on Lord Redesdale in Ireland and Published by Cobbett — Doubts of the Le- 
gality of his Lordship's Trial — He is found Guilty 271 

THE FIRE-EATERS. 

Passion for Duelling in Ireland — Ancient Duel before the Judges and Law Authorities, 
&c., &c., at the Castle of Dublin — List of Official and Judicial Duellists in Author's 
Time^Fauaily Weapons Described — The Fire-Eaters' Society — Their Chiefs — Ele- 
gant Institution of the Knights of Tara — Description of them — Their Exhibitions 
and Meetings — The Rules of Duelling and Points of Honor established by the Fire- 
Eaters, called the Thirty-six Commandments — Singular Duel between the Author 
and Mr. Richard Daly, a Remarkable Duellist and Fop — Daly Hit — Author's Second 
the Celebrated Balloon Crosby — His Singular Appearance and Character 286 

DUELLING EXTRAORDINARY. 

Frequency of Election Duels — Ludicrous Affair between Frank Skelton and an Excise- 
man — Frank shoots the Exciseman and I'uns away — His Curious Reasons — Sir J. 
Bourke's Quadrille Duel, with five Hits — Mr. H. D. G . . . y's Remarkable Meeting 
with Counsellor O'Maher — O'Maher hit — Civil Proposition of G . . . y's Second — 
G ... y's Gallant Letter to the Author on his Election for ^laiyborough— honora- 
ble Barry Yelverton challenged by Nine Officers at once — His Elucidation of the 
Fire-Eaters' Resolutions — Lord Kilkenny's Memorable Duels and Lawsuits — His 
Lordship is shot by Mr. Ball, an Attorney — The Heir to his Title (the Hon. Somerset 
Butler) challenges Counsellor Burrowes — The Latter hit, but his Life saved by some 
Gingerbread Nuts — Lord Kilkenny's Duel with Counsellor Byrne — The Counsellor 
wounded — Counsellor Guinness escapes a P^encontre — Sketch of Counsellor M Nally 
— His Duel with the Author — His three Friends ; all afterward hanared — M-Nally 
wounded — Bcm-Mot of Mr. Harding — The Aff;dr highly Beneficial to M'Nally — His 
Character, Marriage, and Death — Ancient Mode of'fishring Duels — The Lists des- 
cribed — Duel of Colonel Barrington with Squire Gilbert on Horseback — Both 
Wounded — Gilbert's Horse killed— Chivalrous Conclusion 301 

GEORGE HARTPOLE. 

Curious Fatality in the Hartpole Family— Characteristic Sketch of the Last of the 
Name — Desciiption of Shrewl Castle— The Chapel and Cemetery — Strictures on Epi- 
taph Writing— Eccentricities of the Earl of Aldborou^h— His Lordship proposes his 
Sister, Lady Sarah Strattord, as Returning Officer for the Borough of Baltinglass — 
Consequent Disturbances— The North Briton put on his Mettle, but outmanoeuvred 
— '" Lending to the Lord"— Successtul Conspiracy to marry Hartpole to the Daugh- 
ter of a Village-Innkeeper- He is stabbed by his Wife, and deserts her in conse- 



qupnce — He forms an Attaclimeut to Mi-s Maria Otvvay, whom he marries uiider the 
Plea oC his previous Coiiiiectiou !)Pimr Tllejral — Unt'ortuiiate Nature of this Union — 
Spparatioi) of the Parties — Ilartpole's Voyasre to Portugal, bis Rpturii and Death — 
Sundry other Anecdotes of the Stratford Fatinly t 318 

HAMILTON ROWAN AND THE BAR. 

Sketch of the Character of Mr Hamilton Rowan — Hi* Quixotic Spiiit of Philanthropy 
• — Case of Mary Neil, taken up by Mr. Rowan — Dinner-Club among the Briefless Bar- 
risters of Dublin — Apparition of Mr. Hamilton Rowan and his Dog — More fiightcned 
than hurt — An Unanswerable Query — Mr. Rowan's Subsequent Adventures — The 
Rev. Mr. Jackson — He is brought up to receive Sentence for High-Treason, and ex- 
pires in Court 1 349 

SELF-DECAPITATION. 

An Irish Peasant cutting his own head off by mistake — His reputed Ghost — Natural 
deaths of the Irish Peasantry — Reflections on the Excise Laws 356 

FATHER O'LEARY. 

Humorous Story of Father O'Lenry and a Bear — Mistaken Notions respecting Ireland 
on the Continent — Lord Ventry and his Tenant ; an Anecdote characteristic of the 
Irish Peasant 359 

DEATH OF LORD ROSSMOJIE. - ' 

Strictures on Dr. Johnson — His Biographer Boswell^— False Definitions and Errone- 
ous Ethics — Superstition — Supernatural Appearances — Theological Argument of the 
Author in Favor of his Peculiar Faith — Original Poetry by Miss T . . . — The Au- 
thor purchases Lady Mayo's Desmesne, County Wicklow — Terrific and Cultivated 
Scenerj' contrasted — Description of the Golden iBelt of Ireland, and the Beauties of the 
above-mentioned County — Lord Ross more — His Character^Supernatural Incident 
of a most Exti-aordinary Nature, vouched by Living Witnesses, and Attendant on 
the Sudden Death of his Lordship T 362 

MEMORANDA CRITICA. 

Remarks on Lady Morgan's Novel of '' The Wild Irish Girl," &;c. — Prince O'Sullivan 
at Killa'-nej' — Miss Edgworth's '• Castle Rackrent" — Memoir of Jonathan Clerk — 
" Florence Macartby" — Comparison between Lady Morgan and Thomas JMooie as 
Writers — The Authoi-'s Knovvlr^dge of Both — " Captain Rock" condemned — The 
" Irish Melodies" 1iy Moore and Power — The Harmonizing of Them by Sir John 
Stevenson injurious to the National Mu.-5ic — Anecdote of Moore and Mrs.K . . . y 373 

MEMORANDA POETICA. 

Poets and Poetasters — Major Roche's Extraordinary Poem on the Battle of Water- 
loo— "Tears of the British Muse" — French Climax of Love — A Man's Age discovered 
by his Poetry — Evils of a Motto — Amorous Feelings of Youth — Love Verses of a 
Boy ; of a Young Man — " Loves of the Angels" — Dinner Verses of an Oxonian — 
"The Highlander," a Poem — Extracts from the Manuscripts of Miss T . . n, &c 380 

THEATRICAL RECOLLECTIONS. 

The Author's Early Visits to Crow Street Theatre— jinterrnptions of the University 
Men — Collese Pranks — Old Mr. Sheridan in"Cato''and in ■' Alexander the Great." 
— Curious Scene introduced, by Mistake, in the lattei' Tragedy — Mr. Digges in the 
Gho.^t of Hamlet's Father — Chorus of Cocks — The Author's Preference of Comedy 
to Tragedj- — Remarks on Mr. Kean and the London Moralists — Liston in " Paul Pi;y." 
— Old Sparks — The Spanish Debutante — Irish Johnstone — Modern Comedy — The 
French Stage - 396 

MRS. .JORDAN. 

Public Misstatement respecting that Lady — The Author's long Acquaintance with Her 
— Debut of Mrs. Jordan, at the Dublin Theatre, as Miss Francis — Her incipient Tal- 
ents at that Period — Favoiite Actresses then in Possessi(>n of the Stage — Theatrical 
Jealousy — Mrs. Daly (formerly Miss Barsanti) — Curious Inversion ot Characters in 
the Opera of " The Governess," resorted to by the Manager to raise the Wind — Lieu- 
tenant' Doyne proposes for Miss Francis— His Suit rejected from Prudential Con* 



conte:nts. 15 

siderations — Miss Francis departs for England — Mr. Owenson, Lady Morgan's Fa- 
ther — CompHiison between that Performer and Mr. John (commonly called Irish) 
John-tone — Introduction of the Author to His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence 
— Reflections on the Scurrilous Personalities of tlie Englicrh Press — Mrs. Jordan in the 
Green-Rooin and on the Srage — Her Eemarks on the Theatiical Art, and on her 
own Style of Acting — Her Last Visit to Dublin, and Cuiious Circumstances con- 
nected therewith — Mr. Dwyer the Actor and Mr. Sergeant Gold — Mrs. Jordan in 
Private Society. — E.Ktracts from her L-etters — Her Retirement from Bushy, and sub- 
sequent Embarliation for France 406 

MRS. JORDAN IN FRANCE. 

Decline of Mrs. Jordan's Healtii — Description of her Cottage and Grounds at Boulogne- 
sui-Mer — Madame Ducan}p and her Servant Agnes — Their Account of Mrs. Jordan's 
Habits and Manners — Removal of that Lady to Versailles, and subsequently to St. 
Cloud — Account of her lUness and Last Moments 422 

MEMORY. 

Diversity of the Author's Pursuits — Superficial Acquirements contrasted with Solid — 
Variety and Change of Study conducive to Health — Breeding Ideas — How to avoid 
Eumd — 1"he Principles oi' Memory and Fear — The Author's Tiieory respecting the 
Former , and his Motive for its Introduction 429 

POLITICAL CONDUCT OF THE AUTHOR. 

Letter fi'om the Author to Mr. Burne, i-elating to the Political Conduct of the For- 
mer at the Period of the Union — Exti-acts I'rom Lettcns written to the Author by Lord 
Westmoreland — (ieneral Reflections on the Political Condition of Ireland at tlie 
Present -Time — Hint toward the Revival of a curious old Statute — Clerical Justices 
— The King in Ireland — The Corporation of Dublin — The " Glorious Memory" — 
Catholics and Protestants — Mischievous Virulence of Party Feeling 433 

SCENES AT HAVRE DE GRACE. 

Peace of 1B14 — The Bourbons and Emigres generally — Motives of the Author in visiting 
the Continent — His Departure fi om England with his Family — Arrival at Havie de 
Gracf^ — The Coteau d'lngojiville — Doctor Sorerie and his Graduated Scale — The 
Pavilion Poulet — Price of Commodities at Havre — Rate of Exchange — English As- 
sumption Abroad — The Author's Rural Retirement disturbed by Napoleon's Return 
from Elba — Circumstances attending the Announcement of tliis Fact at Havie — 
Previous Demonstrations of the Inhabitants of the Town and more particulaily of 
the Military quartered there — The Uniform of the Old Guard — Two Russians Muti- 
lated by tiie Mob — Retirement of Louis le Desire from Paris — Curious Variety of 
Feeling manifested among the People at Havre — Policj' of the Priests — Good Humor 
of all Parties-^Recruiting for the Emperor and the King — Consternation of the En- 
glish at Havre^Meeting at the House of the Consul, Mr. Stuart — A Vinous Harangue 
— Prompt" Embarkation of the British — Accommodations of a Storehouse — The 
Huissiers and the Spring Showers — Signs of the Times 442 

COMMENCEMENT OF THE HUNDRED DAYS. 

A Family Council — Journ^>y from Havre to Paris — Attention of the French Officers to 
the Author and his Party — Peaceable Condition of the Intervening Country — 
Thouuhts on Revolutions in General — Ireland in 1798 — Ai-rival in the Frencla Capi- 
tal — Admirable State of the Police — Henry Thevenot — Misgivings of the Author — 
His Ijiterview with Count Bertrand — Polite Conduct of the Count — The Emperor's 
Chapel — Napoleon at Mass — His Deportment — Treasonable Garment? — Colonel 
Gowen — Military Inspection after Mass — Alteration in the Manner of the Emperor 
— Enthusiasm of the Soldier 455 

THE ENGLISH IN PARIS. 

Doctor and Mrs. Marshall — Col. Macirone, Aid-de-Camp to Joachim Murat, while King 
of Naples — General Arthur O'Connor— Lord and Lady Kinnaird — His Lordship under 
the Surveillance of the Police — Suspected of Espionage, and Arrested, but set at 
Liberty immediately after — Messrs. Hobhouse and Bruce — Dr. Marshall's Correct In- 
fortnatian as to Passiuir Events — Pv.eal Character of the Coterie, Rt his House — 
Madame la Parente du Ministre Fouche — Misconception of the Minister's Swiss Por- 
ter — Henry Thevenot 464 



16 



CONTENTS. 



mAUGURATION OF THE EMPEROR. 



The Peers and Doputies summoned for the 8th of June — Abduction of the Regalia by 
the Royalists — Author obtains a Ticket of Admission to the Gallery of the Chamber 
of Deputies, to Witness the Ceremony — Grenadiers of the Old Guard — Enthnsiasra 
of the Military, and Comparative (iniescence of the other R,anks — Entrance of Na- 
poleon into the Chamber — Sketch of his Appearance and that of Madame Mere — 
Administration of the Oath of Alh-giance — The Duke of Otranto and Count Thibau- 
deau — The Imperial Speech and its Ineffective Delivery 471 

PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 

Apathy of the People — Temporary Building in Front of the Hotel des Invalides — ^Pont 
de Jena — Policy of Napoleon regarding Fouche — Procession to the Champ de Mars 
— Peculiar Accoutrements of a Regiment of Cavalry — Reflections on some Points in 
the History of Napoleon — His Mistake in changing the Republican into a Monarch! 
cal Government — Coaches of Ceremony of the French Noblesse and Officers of State 
— The Emperor's Liberality to various Members of his Court — His Personal Dejec- 
tion on this Day — Rejoicings succeeding the Promulgation — Superiority of the 
French in Matters of Embellishment — Gratuitous Distribution of Provisions and Wine 
— Politeness of the Lower Orders of Fiencli — Display of Fireworks — Mr. Hob- 
house's "Second Reign of Napoleon." 485 

LAST DAYS OF THE IMPERIAL GOVERNJ^IENT. 

Rejoicings on Napoleon's Victory over Blucher and Surprise of Lord Wellington — Bul- 
letin issued at St. Cloud — Budget of News communicated by a French Cockney 
— Authoi 's Alarm's on Account of his Family — Proposes quitting Paris — Information 
of Henry Thevenot : confirmed at Lafitte's — Napoleon's Return from Waterloo— The 
Author's Soui'ces of Intelligence — His Visits to the Chamber of Deputies — Garat, 
Minister of Justice at the Period of Louis' Decapitation — The Rousseau MSS. and 
their Peculiar Utility to the Author — Fouche's Treachery — Vacillating Plan to in- 
form Napoleon thereof through Count Thibaudeau — Observations on the Vicissi- 
tudes and Political Extinction of Bonaparte 493 

DETENTION AT YILETTE. 

Negotiation between the Provisional Government of Paris and the Allies — Colonel 
Madrono's Mission — The Author crosses the Barrier of the French Army, misses the 
Colonel, and is detained on Suspicion — Led before Marshal Davoust, Prince d'Eck- 
muhl, and Commander-in-Chief of the Forces at Vilette — The Marshal's Hausrhty 
Demeanor, and the Imprecations of the Soldiery — A Friend in Need ; br, one Good 

Turn deserves- Another — Remarks of a French Officer on the Battle of Waterloo 

Account of the Physical and Moral Strength and Disposition of the Army at Vilette 
— Return of the Parlementaires — Awkward Mistake of one of the Sentries — Libeia- 
tion of the Author — Marshal Davoust's Expressions to the Negotiators 502 

PROJECTED ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON. 

Attack on the Bridge of Charenton by the Russians — Fouche's Airangements for the 
Defence of Paris — Bonaparte's Retirement to Malmaison — His Want of iNIoral Cour- 
age — Comparison between Napoleon and Frederick tlie Great — p]xtraordinary Res- 
olution of the Ex-Emperor to repair to London — Preparations for his Undertaking 
the Journey as Secretary to Dr. Marshall — The Scheme abandoned from Dread of 
Treachery on the Road to the Coast — Termination of the Author's Intei-course with 
Dr. Marshall and the Cause thereof^ — Remuneration of Col. Macirone by the Arch- 
Traitor, Fouche 508 

BATTLE OF SEVRES AND ISSY. 

Afternoon Ramble on the Boulevard Italien — Interrupted by the Report of Artillery 

Sang-froid of the Fair Sex — Female Soldiers — The Author repairs to a Point com- 
manding the Field of Battle — Site of the Projected Palace of the King of Rome Ra- 
pidity of the Movements of the French as contrasted with those of the Prussians 

Blowing up of the Bridge of St. Cloud — Visit of the Author to the Encampment 
in the Champ de Mars — The Wounded Soldier 514 



CONTENTS. 17 

CAPITULATTOIf OF PARIS. 

Retiremont of the Army of Vilette behind the Loire — Occupation of the Fronch Onpital 
by the Allies — Thoughts on the Disposition of the Bourbon Governmrnt toward Great 
Britain — Conduct of the Allirs after their Possession of Paris — Infringements of 
the Treaty — Removal of the Works of Art from the Louvre — Reflections on the In- 
jurious Results of that Measure to the British Stiidgnt — Liberal Motive operating on 
the English Administration of that Period — Little Interludes got up between the 
French King and the Allies — Louis XVIlI.'s Majrnanimous Letters — Threatened Des- 
truction of the Pont de Jena by Marshal Blucher — Heroic E-esolution of His Most 
Christian Majesty to perish in the Explosion 522 

THE CATACOMBS OF PERE LA CHAISE. 

The Catacombs of Paris — Ineffective Nature of the Wiitten Description of these as 
compared with the Reality — Author's Descent into them — His Speedy Return — 
Contrast presented by the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise — Tomb of Abelard and Hel- 
oise — An English Capitalist's Notions of Sentiment 527 

. PEDIGREE-HUNTUS^G. 

The Author's Efforts to Disco%'er the Source of his Name and Family — The Irish Her- 
ald-at-Arms — Reference inade by him to the English Professor — Heraldic Specula- 
tioTi — Ascent of the Author's Pedigree to the Reitrn of William the Conqueror — Con- 
sultation with the Norman Herald suggested — Author's Visit to Rouen — Anecdotes 
of French Convents — Madnme Cousin and her System — Traits of Tolei-ation — M. Hel- 
liot, the celebrated ancieii avocat of Rouen— Pi-actice of Legal Bignmy in Normandy 
— A Breakfast Party — Death of M. Ht^lliot — Iiit»'rvievv with an old Herald, formerly 
of the Nolilessc — His Person and Costmne described — Discovfry of the Town and 
Castle of Bnrentin — Occurrences there — The old Beggar Man — Visit to Jersey, where 
Dro^o de Barentin was killed in defendine the Castle of Mont Orgueil — Return to 
Burentin, and Singular Incident at Ivetot — Conclusion 520 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 



MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS. 

Family Mansion described — Library — Garden — Anecdotes of my Family — State of Land- 
lord and- Tenant in 1760 — The Gout — Ignorance of the Peasantry — Extraordinary Anom- 
aly in the Loyalty and Disloyalty of the Irish Counti'y Gentlemen as to James L, Charles 
L, Charles II., James II., and William — Ancient Toasts — My Great-Grandfather, Colonel 
John Barrington. hanged on his own Gate ; but saved by Edward Doran, Trooper of 
King James — Irish Customs. Anecdotes, &,c. 

I WAS born at Knapton, near Abbejleix, in Queen's county, 
at tliat time the seat of my father, but now of Sir George Pig- 
ott. I am the third son and fourth child of John Barrington, 
who had himself neither brother nor sister ; and at the period 
of my birth, my immediate connections were thus circum- 
stanced. 

My family, by ancient patents, by marriages, and by inher- 
itance from their ancestors, possessed very extensive landed 
estates in Queen's county, and had almost unlimited influence 
over its population, returning two members to the Irish parlia- 
ment for Ballynakill, then a close borough. 

Oullenaghmore, the mansion where my ancestors had resi- 
ded from the reign of James I., was then occupied by my grand- 
father, Colonel John Barrington. He had adopted me as 
soon as I was born, brought me to Oullenaghmore, and with 
him I resided until his death. 

That old mansion (the Great house as it v/as called), exhib- 
ited altogether an uncouth mass, warring with every rule of 
symmetry in architecture. The original castle had been de- 



20 MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS. 

molished, and its materials converted to a mucli worse pur- 
pose ; tlie front of the edifice wliicli succeeded it was particu- 
larly ungraceful ; a Saracen's liead (our crest) in colored brick- 
work being its only ornament, while some of the rooms inside 
were wainscoted with brown oak, others with red deal, and 
some not at all. The walls of the large hall were decked (as 
is customary) with fishing-rods, fire-arms, stags' horns, foxes' 
brushes, powder-flasks, shot-pouches, nets, and dog-collars ; 
here and there relieved by the extended skin of a kite or a 
kingfisher, nailed up in the vanity of their destroyers : that 
of a monstrous eagle, which impressed itself indelibly on my 
mind, surmounted the chimney-piece, accompanied by a card 
announcing the name of its slaughterer — "Alexander Bar- 
rington;" — who, not being a rich relation, was 'subsequently 
entertained in the Great house two years, as a compliment for 
his present. A large parlor on each side of the hall, the only 
embellishments of which were some old portraits, and a multi- 
plicity of hunting, shooting, and racing prints, with red tape 
nailed round them by way of frames, completed the reception- 
rooms ; and as I was the only child in the house, and a most 
inquisitive brat, every different article was explained to me. 

I remained here till I was nine years old ; I had no play- 
fellows to take off my attention from whatever . I observed or 
was taught ; and so strongly do those early impressions remain 
engraven on my memory, naturally most retentive, that even 
at this long distance of time, I fancy I can see the entire place 
as it stood then, with its old inhabitants moving before me ; — 
their faces I most clearly recollect. 

The library was a gloomy closet, and rather scantily fur- 
nished with everything but dust and cobwebs : there were 
neither chairs nor tables ; but I can not avoid recollecting many 
of the principal books, because I read such of them as I could 
comprehend, or as were amusing ; and looked over all the 
prints in them a hundred times. While trying to copy these 
prints they made an indelible impression upon me ; and hence 
I feel confident of the utility of embellishments in any book 
intended for the instruction of children. I possessed many of the 
books long after my grandfather's death, and have some of therr 



FAMILY LIBKAKY GAKDEInT. 21 

still. I had an insatiable passion for reading from my earli- 
est days, and it has occupied the greater portion of my later 
life. Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, Fairy Tales, and 
the History of the Bible, all with liumerous plates, were my 
favorite authors and constant amusement : I believed every 
word of them except the fairies, and was not entirely skeptical 
as to those good people neither. 

I fancy there was then but little variety in the libraries of 
most country-gentlemen ; and I mention as a curiosity, the fol- 
lowing volumes, several of which, as already stated, I retained 
many years after my grandfather and grandm^other died : — 
The Journals of the House of Commons; Clarendon's His- 
tory ; The Spectator and Guardian ; Killing no Murder ; The 
Patriot King ; Bailey's Dictionary ; some of Swift's Works 
George Falkner's newspapers ; Quintus Cin'tius in English 
Bishop Burnet ; A Treatise on Tar-Avater, by some bishop 
Robinson Crusoe ; Hudibras ; History of the Bible, in folio 
Nelson's Fasts and Feasts ; Fairy Tales ; The History of 
Peter Wilkin s ; Glums and Gouries ; somebody's Justice of 
Peace; and a multiplicity of farriery, sporting, and garden- 
ing books, &c., which I lost piecemeal, when making room 
for law-books -r-probably not -half so good, but at least much 
more experimental. 

Very few mirrors, in those days, adorned the houses of the 
country-gentlemen : a couple or three shaving-glasses, for the 
gentlemen, and a couple of pretty large dressing-glasses, in 
black frames, for the ladies' use, composed, I believe, nearly 
the entire stock of reflectors at my grandfather's except 
tubs of spring-water, which answered for the maid-servants. 

A very large and productive, but not neatly-dressed-up 
garden, adjoined the house. The white-washed stone images; 
the broad flights of steps up and down ; the terraces, with the 
round fish-pond, riveted my attention, and gave an impres- 
sive variety to this garden, which I shall ever remember, as 
well as many curious incidents v\''hich I have witnessed therein. 

At the Great house all disputes among the tenants were 
then settled, quarrels reconciled, old debts arbitrated ; a kind 
frish landlord reigned despotic in the ardent affections of the 



22 MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS. 

tenantry, their pride and pleasure being to obey and to sup- 
port him. 

But there existed a happy reciprocity of interests. The 
landlord of that period protected the tenant by his influence, 
any wanton injury to a tenant being considered as an insult 
to the landlord ; and if either" of the landlord's sons were grown 
up, no time was lost by him in demanding satisfaction from 
any gentleman, for mal-treating even his father's blacksmith. 

No gentleman of this degree ever distrained a tenant for 
rent : indeed the parties appeared to be quite united and knit 
together. The greatest abhorrence, however, prevailed as to 
tithe proctors, coupled with no great predilection for the clergy 
who employed them. These latter certainly were, in principle 
and practice, the real country tyrants of that -day, and first 
caused the assembling of the White Boys. 

I have heard it often said that at the time I speak of, every 
estated gentleman in the Queen's county was honored by the 
gout. I have since considered that its extraordinary preva- 
lence was not difficult to be accounted for, by the dispropor- 
tionate quantity of acid contained in their seductive beverage, 
called rum-shrub, which was then universally drunk in quanti- 
ties nearly incredible, generally from supper-time till morn- 
ing, by all country-gentlemen, as they said, to keep down 
their claret. 

My grandfather could not refrain, and therefore he suffered 
well : he piqued himself on procuring, through the interest of 
Batty Lodge (a follower of the family who had married a Dub- 
lin grocer's widow), the very first importation of oranges and 
lemons to the Irish capital every season. Horse-loads of these, 
packed in boxes, were immediately sent to the Great house of 
Cullenaghmore ; and no sooner did they arrive, than the good 
news oi fresh fruit was communicated to the colonel's neigh- 
boring friends, accompanied by the usual invitation. 

Night after night the revel afforded uninterrupted pleasure 
to the joyous gentry : the festivity being subsequently renewed 
at some other mansion, till the gout thought proper to put the 
whole party hors de comhat ; having the satisfaction of making 
cripples for a few months of such as he did 'not kill. 



A TUKN-COAT EEXT-DAT. 2^ 

Wliile tlie convivials bellowed with only toe or finger ago- 
nies, it vfas a mere bagatelle ; but wlien Mr. Gout marcbed up 
tlie country, and invaded the bead or tbe stomacb, it was tben 
called no joke; and Drogbeda usquebaugb, tbe bottest distilled 
drinkable liq[uor ever invented, was 'applied to for aid, and 
generally drove tbe tormentor in a few minutes to bis former 
quarters. It was, indeed, counted a specific; and I allude to it 
more particularly, as my poor grandfatber was finished thereby. 

It was his custom to sit under a very large branching bay- 
tree in bis arm-chair, placed in a fine, sunny aspect at tbe en- 
trance to the garden. I particularly remember bis cloak, for 
I kept it twelve years after his death ; it was called a cartouche 
cloak, from a famous French robber who, it was said, invented 
it for his gang for the purposes of evasion. It was made of 
very fine broadcloth, of a bright blue color on one side, and a 
bright scarlet on the other ; so that on being turned, it might 
deceive even a vigilant pursuer. 

There my grandfatber used to sit of a hot sunny day, re- 
ceive any rents he could collect, and settle any accounts 
which his indift'erence on that head permitted him to think of. 

At one time he suspected a young rogue of having slipped 
some iQoney off his table when paying rent ; and therefore, 
when afterward tbe tenants began to count out their money, 
be used to throw tbe focus of bis large reading-glass upon their 
bands : the smart, without any visible cause, astonished the 
ignorant creatures ! they shook their hands, and thought it 
must be the devil who was scorching them. Tbe priest was 
let into the secret : he seriously told them all it was the devil, 
who had mistaken them for the fellow that had stolen the 
money from the colonel ; but that if be (tbe priest) was prop- 
erly considered, he would say as many masses as would bother 
fifty devils, were it necessary. The priest got his fee ; and 
another farthing never was taken from my grandfatber. 

He was rather a short man, with a large red nose — strong 
made ; and wore an immense white wig, such as the portraits 
give to Dr. Johnson. He died at eighty-six years of age, of 
shrub-gout and usquebaugh, beloved and respected. I cried 
heartily for him ; and then became the favorite of my grand- 



24: 



MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS. 



mother, tlie best woman in the world, who went to reside in 
Dublin, and prepare me for college. 

Colonel John Barrington, my great-gTandfather, for some 
time before his death, and after I was born, resided at Bally- 
roan. My grandfather having married Margaret, the daughter 
of Sir John Byrne, Bart., had taken to the estates and man- 
sion, and gave an annuity to my great-grandfather, who died, 
one hundred and four years old, of a fever, having never shown 
any of the usual decrepitudes or defects of age — he v/as the 
most respectable man by tradition of my family, and for more 
than seventy years a parliament man. 

Sir John Byrne, Bart., my maternal great-grandfather, lived 
at his old castle, Timogee, almost adjoining my grandfather 
Barrington : his domains, close to Stradbally, were nearly the 
most beautiful in Queen's county. On his decease, his widow, 
Lady Dorothea Byrne, an Englishwoman, whose name had 
been Warren, I believe a grand-aunt to the late Lady Bulk- 
ley, resided there till her death ; having previously seen her 
son give one of the first and most deeply-to-be-regretted in- 
stances of what is called forming English connections. Sir 
John Byrne, my grand-uncle, having gone to England, mar 
ried the heiress of the Leycester family ; the very name of 
Ireland was then odious to the English gentry ; and previous 
terms were made with him, that his children should take the 
cognomen of Leycester, and drop that of Byrne ; that he should 
quit Ireland, sell all his pateTnal estates there, and become an 
Englishman. He assented ; and the last Lord Shelburne pur- 
chased, for less than half their value, all his fine estates, of 
which the marquis of Landsdown is now the proprietor. 

After the father's death, the son became, of course, Sir Peter 
Leycester, the predecessor of the present Sir John Fleming 
Leycester : thus the family of Byrne, descended from a long 
line of Irish princes and chieftains, condescended to become 
little among the rank of English commoners ; and so ended the 
connection between the Byrnes and Barringtons. 

My mother v/as the daughter of Patrick French, of Peters 
well, county of Galway, wherein he had large estates ; my 
gi*andmother (his wife) was one of the last remaining to the 



"unshaken loyalty." 25 

first house of the ancient O'Briens. Her brother, my great- 
uncle, Donatus, also emigrated to England, and died fifteen or 
sixteen years since, at his mansion, Blatherwick, in Cheshire, 
in a species of voluntary obscurity, inconsistent with his bu^th 
and large fortune. He left gi'eat hereditary estates in both 
countries to the enjoyment of his mistress, excluding the legiti- 
mate branches of his family from all claims upon the manors 
or demesnes of their ancestors. The law enabled him to do 
what a due sense of justice and pride would have interdicted. 

The anomaly of political principles among the Irish country- 
gentlemen at that period was very extraordinary. They pro- 
fessed what they called ^'unshaken loyalty ;'''' and yet they 
were unqualified partisans of Cromwell and "William, two de- 
cided usurpers^ one of them having dethroned his father-in-law, 
and the other decapitated his king. 

The fifth of November was celebrated in Dublin for the 
preservation of a Scottish king from gunpowder in London : 
then the thirtieth of January was much approved of by a great 
number of Irish, as the anniversary of making his son, Charles 
I. shorter by the head ; and then the very same Irish cele- 
brated the restoration of Charles II. who was twice as bad as 
his father ; and while they rejoiced in putting a crown upon 
the head of the son of the king who could not quietly keep his 
own head on, they never failed to drink bumpers to the mem- 
ory of Old Noll, who had cut that king's head ofP. To conclude, 
in order to commemorate the whole story, and make their 
children remember it, they dressed up a fat calf's head on 
every anniversary of King Charles's throat being cut, and with 
a smoked ham placed by the side of it, all parties partook 
thereof most happily, washing down the emblem and its ac- 
companiment with as much claret as they could hold. 

Having thus proved their loyalty to James I. and their 
attachment to his son's murderer, and then their loyalty to one 
of his grandsons, to another of whom they were disloyal, they 
next proceeded to celebrate the birthday of William of Or- 
ange, a Dutchman, who turned their king, his father-in-law, 
out of the country, and who, in all probability, would have 
given the Irish another calf's head for their celebration, if his 

2 



26 MY FAMILY CONVICTIONS. 

said father-in-law had not got out of the way with the utmost 
expedition, and gone to live upon charity in France, with the 
natural enemies of the British nation. 

One part of the Irish people then invented a toast, called, 
"The glorious, pious, and immortal memory of William, the 
Dutchman ;" while another raised a counter toast, called, "The 
memory of the chestnut horse," that broke the neck of the 
same King William.* But in my mind (if I am to judge of 
past times by the corporation of Dublin) it was only to coin an 
excuse for getting loyally drunk as often as possible, that they 
were so enthusiastically fond of making sentiments, as they 
called tliem.f 

As to the politics of my family, we had, no doubt, som.e very 
substantial reasons for being both Cromwellians and William- 
ites ; the one confirmed our grants, and the other preserved 
them for us : my family, indeed, had certainly not only those, 
but other very especial reasons to be pleased with King Wil- 
liam ; and though he gave them nothing, they kept what they 
had, which might have been lost but for his usurpation. 

During the short reign of James II. in Ireland, those who 
were not for him were considered to be against him, and of 
course were subject to the severities and confiscations usual in 
all civil wars. Among the rest, my great-grandfather, Colo- 
nel John Barrington, being a protestant, and having no pred- 
ilection for King James, was ousted from his mansion and 
estates at Cullenaghmore by one O'Fagan, a Jacobite wig- 
maker and violent partisan, from Ballynakill. He was, not- 
withstanding, rather respectfully treated, and was allowed 
forty pounds a year so long as he behaved himself. 

However, he only behaved well for a couple of months ; at 
the end of which time, with a party of his faithful tenants, 
he surprised the wig-maker, turned him out of possession in 
his turn, and repossessed himself of his mansion and estates. 

* King "William's neck was not broken, but it was said that he got a fall 
from a chestnut-horse, which hurt him inwai'dly, and hastened his dissolu- 
tion. 

\ Could his majesty, King William, learn in the other world that lie has 
been the cause of more broken heads and drunken men, since his departure 
than all his predecessors, he must be the proudest ghost and most conceited 
ekeleton that ever entered the gardens of Elysium. 



jrusT IN ti]Me! 2T 

The wig-maker, having escaped to Dublin, laid his com- 
plaint before the authorities ; and a party of soldiers were 
ordered to make short work of it, if the colonel did not submit 
on the first summons. 

The party demanded entrance, but were refused ; and a 
little firing from the windows of the mansion took place. Not 
being, however, tenable, it was successfully stormed : the old 
gamekeeper, John Neville, killed, and my great-grandfather 
taken prisoner, conveyed to the drum-head at E-aheenduff, 
tried as a rebel by a certain Cornet M* Mahon, and in due form 
ordered to be hanged in an hour. 

At the appointed time, execution was punctually proceeded 
on; and so far as tying up the colonel to the cross-bar of his 
own gate, the sentence was actually put in force. But at the 
moment the first haul was given to elevate him, Ned Doran, a 
tenant of the estate, who was a trooper in King James's army, 
rode up to the gate — himself and horse in a state of complete 
exhaustion. He saw with horror his landlord strung up, and 
exclaimed : — 

" Holloa ! holloa ! blood and ouns, boys ! cut down the colo- 
nel ! put down the colonel! or ye'll be all hanged yeerselves, 
ye villains of the world, ye ! I am straight from the Boyne 
Water, through thick and thin : ough, by the hokys ! we're 
all cut up and kilt to the devil and back agin — Jeminy's 
scampered, bad luck to him, without a 'good bye to yees !' or, 
*kiss my r — p !' or the least civility in life !" 

My grandfather's hangmen lost no time in getting off, leav- 
ing the colonel slung fast by the neck to the gate-posts. But 
Doran soon cut him down, and fell on his knees to beg pardon 
of his landlord, the holy Virgin, and King William from the 
Boyne Water. 

The colonel obtained the trooper pardon, and he was ever 
after a faithful adherent. He was the grandfather of Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Doran, of the Irish brigade, afterward, if I 
recollect rightly, of the 47th regiment— the officer who cut a 
German colonel's head clean off in the mess-room at Lisbon, 
after dinner, with one slice of his sabre. He dined with me 
repeatedly at Paris about six years since, and was the most 



28 MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS. 

disfigured warrior tliat could possibly be imagined. When he 
left Oullenaugli for the continent, in 1783, he was as fine a 
clever-looking young farmer as could be seen ; but he had 
been blown up once or twice in storming batteries, which, with 
a few gashes across his features, and the obvious aid of numer- 
ous pipes of wine, or something not weaker, had so spoiled his 
beauty, that he had become of late absolutely frightful. 

This occurrence of my great-grandfather fixed the political 
creed of my family. On the first of July, the orange lily was 
sure to garnish every window in the mansion : the hereditary 
petereroes scarcely ceased cracking all the evening, to glorify 
the victory of the Boyne Water, till one of them burst, and kill- 
ed the gardener's wife, who was tying an orange riband round 
the mouth of it, which she had stopped for fear of accidents. 

The tenantry, though to a man papists and at that time 
nearly in a state of slavery, joined heart and hand in these 
rejoicings, and forgot the victory of their enemy while com- 
memarating the rescue of tlieir landlord. A hundred times 
have I heard the story repeated by the '^'Cotchers," as they 
sat crouching on their hams, like Indians, around the big turf 
fire. Their only lament was for the death of old John Neville, 
the gamekeeper. His name I should well remember ; for 
it was his grandson's wife, Debby Clarke, who nursed me. 

This class of stories and incidents was well" calculated to 
make indelible impressions on the mind of a child, and has 
never left mine. The old people of Ireland (like the Asi- 
atics) took the greatest delight in repeating their legendary 
tales to the children, by which constant repetition their old 
stories became in fact hereditary, and I dare say neither 
gained nor lost a single sentence in the recital for a couple of 
hundred years. 

The massacres of Queen Elizabeth were quite familiar to 
them; and by an ancient custom of everybody throwing a 
stone on the spot where any celebrated murder had been com- 
mitted, upon a certain day every year, it is wonderful what 
mounds were raised in numerous places, which no person but 
such as were familiar with the customs of the poor creatures, 
would ever be able to account for. 



A WAUM EECEPTIOiN-. 29 



ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

My Great-Aimt Elizabeth — Bpsiegrd in her Castle of Moret — My Uncle seized and hanged 
before the Walls — Attempted Abduction of Elizabeth, whose Forces surprise the Castle 
of Reuben — Severe Battle. 

A GREAT aunt of mine, Elizabetli Fitzgerald, whose hus- 
band, Stephen, possessed the castle of Moret, near Bally- 
Brittis and not very far from Cullenagh, did not fare quite so 
well as my great-grandfather, before mentioned. 

She and her husband held their castle firmly during the 
troubles. They had forty good warders ; their local enemies 
had no cannon, and but few guns. The warders, protected by 
the battlements, pelted their adversaries with large stones, 
when they ventured to approach the walls ; and in front of 
each of that description of castles, there was a hole perpendic- 
ularly over the entrance, wherefrom any person, himself un- 
seen, could drop down every species of defensive material 
upon assailants. 

About the year 1690, Avhen Ireland was in a state of great 
disorder, and no laws were really regarded, numerous factious 
bodies were formed in every part of the country to claim old 
rights, and take possession of estates under legal pretences. 

My uncle and aunt or rather my aunt and uncle (for she was 
said to be far the most effective of the two) at one time suf- 
fered the enemy (who were of the faction of the O'Oahils, and 
who claimed my uncle's property, which they said Queen 
Elizabeth had turned them out of) to approach the gate in the 
night-time. There were neither outworks nor wet fosse ; the 
assailants, therefore, counting upon victory, brought fire to con- 
sume the gate, and so gain admittance. My aunt, aware of 
their designs, drew all her warders to one spot, large heaps 
of great stones being ready to their hands at the top of the 
castle. 

When the O'Oahils had got close to the gate, and were di- 
rectly under the loop-hole, on a sudden, streams of boiling 
water, heated in the castle coppers, came showering down upon 



30 ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

the heads of the crowd below : this extinguished their fire, 
and cruelly scalded many of the besiegers. 

The scene may be conceived which was presented by a 
multitude of scalded wretches, on a dark night, under the 
power and within the reach of all offensive missiles. They 
attempted to fly ; but while one part of the warders hurled 
volleys of weighty stones heyond them, to deter them from 
retreating, another party dropped stones more ponderous still 
on the heads of those who, for protection, crouched close under 
the castle-walls : the lady of the ca'stle herself, meantime, and 
all her maids, assisting the chief body of the warders in pelt- 
ing the Jacobites with every kind of destructive missile, till all 
seemed pretty still ; and whenever a groan was heard, a volley 
quickly ended the troubles of the sufferer. 

The old traditionists of the country often told rue, that at 
daybreak there was lying above one hundred of the assailants 
under the castle-walls — some scalded, some battered to pieces, 
and many lamed so as to have no power of moving off: but 
my good aunt kindly ordered them all to be put out of their 
misery, as fast as ropes and a long gallows, erected for their 
sakes, could perform that piece of humanity. 

After the victory, the warders had a feast on the castle-top, 
whereat each of them recounted his own feats. Squire Fitz- 
gerald, who was a quiet and easy man, and hated fighting, 
and who had told my aunt at the beginning, that they would 
surely kill him, having seated himself all night peaceably un- 
der the parapets, was quite delighted when the fray was over. 
He had walked out into his garden outside the wall to take 
some tranquil air, when an ambuscade of the hostile survivors 
surrounded and carried him off. In vain his warders sallied — 
the squire was gone past all redemption ! 

It was supposed he had paid his debts to nature- — if any he 
owed — when, next day, a large body of the O'Cahil faction 
appeared near the castle. Their force was too great to be 
attacked by the warders, who durst not sally ; and the former 
assault had been too calamitous to the O'Cahils to warrant 
them in attempting another. Both were therefore standing at 
bay, when, to the great joy of the garrison, Squire Fitzgerald 



HUSBAND YEESUS CASTLE. 31 

■was produced, and one of tlie assailants with, a white cloth on 
a pike, advanced to parley. 

The lady attended his proposals, which were very laconic. 
" I'm a truce, lady ! Look here," showing the terrified squire, 
" we have your husband in hault — yee's have yeer castle, sure 
enough. Now we'll change, if you please : we'll render the 
squire and you'll render the keep ; and if yees won't do that 
same, the squire v>' ill be throttled before your two eyes in half 
an hour." 

"Flag of truce!" said the heroine, with due dignity and 
without hesitation ; " mark the words of Elizabeth Fitzgerald, 
of Moret castle : they may serve for your own wife upon some 
future occasion. Flag of truce ; I loonH render my keep, and 
I'll tell you why — Elizabeth Fitzgerald may get another hus- 
band, but Elizabeth Fitzgerald may never get another castle : 
so I'll keep what I have, and if you can't get off faster than 
your legs can readily cafty you, j:i\.j warders will try which is 
hardest, your skull or a stone bullet." 

The O'Cahils kept their word, and old Squire Stephen Fitz- 
gerald, in a short time, was seen dangling and performing va- 
rious evolutions in the air, to the great amusement of the Jaco- 
bites, the mortification of the Avarders, and chagrin (which 
however was not without mixture of consolation) of my great- 
aunt, Elizabeth. 

This magnanimous lady, after Squire Stephen had been duly 
cut down, waked and deposited in a neighboring garden, con- 
ceived that she might enjoy her castle with tranquillity; but, 
to guard against every chance, she replenished her stony mag- 
azine ; had a wide trench dug before the gate of the castle; 
and pit-falls, covered with green sods, having sharp stakes 
driven within, scattered round it on every side — the passage 
through these being only known to the faithful warders. She 
contrived, besides, a species of defence that I have not seen 
mentioned in the Peccata Hibernia, or any of the murderous 
annals of Ireland : it consisted of a heavy beam of wood, well 
loaded with iron at the bottom, and suspended by a pulley and 
cord at the top of the castle, and which, on any future as- 
sault, she could let down through the projecting hole over the 



32 ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

entrance ; alternately, with the aid of a few strong warders 
above, raising and letting it drop smash among the enemy who 
attempted to gain admittance below, thereby pounding them 
as if with a pestle and mortar, without the power of resistance 
on their part. 

The castle vaults were well victualled, and at all events 
could safely defy any attacks of hunger ; and as the enemy 
had none of those despotic engines called cannon, my aunt's 
garrison were in all points in tolerable security. Indeed, for- 
tunately for Elizabeth, there was not a single piece of ordnance 
in the country, except those few which were mounted in the 
fort of Dunnally, or travelled with the king's army : and, to 
speak truth, fire-arms then would have been of little use, since 
there was not sufficient gunpowder among the pepple to hold 
an hour's hard fighting. 

With these, and some interior defence, Elizabeth imagined 
herself well-armed against all marauders, and quietly awaited 
a change of times and a period of general security. 

Close to the castle there was, and I believe still remains, a 
dribbling stream of water, in which there is a large stone with 
a deep indenture on the top. It was always full of limpid 
water, and called St. Bridget's well, that holy woman having 
been accustomed daily to kneel in prayer on one knee till she 
wore a hole in the top of the granite by the cap of her pious 
joint. 

To this well, old Jug Ogie, the oldest piece of furniture in 
Moret castle (she was an hereditary cook), daily went for the 
purpose of drawing the most sacred crystal she could, where- 
with to boil her mistress's dinner ; and also, as the well was 
naturally consecrated, it saved the priest a quantity of trouble 
in preparing holy water for the use of the warders. 

On one of these sallies of old Jug, somefellows (who, as it af- 
terward appeared, had with a very deep design lain in ambush) 
seized and were carrying her off, when they were perceived 
by one of the watchmen from the tower, who instantly gave 
an alarm, and some warders sallied after them. Jug was res- 
cued, and the enemy fled through the swamps ; but not before 
one of them had his head divided into two equal parts by the 



A LEAGUE. 33 

hatchet of Keeran Karry, who was always at the head of the 
warders, and the life and soul of the whole garrison. 

The dead man tin^ned out to be a son of Andrew M'Mahon, 
a faction-man of Reuben ; but nobody could then guess the 
motive for endeavoring to carry oif old Jug. However, that 
matter soon became developed. 

Elizabeth was accounted to be very rich, the cleverest 
woman of her day, and she had a large demesne into the bar- 
gain : and finding the sweets of independence, she refused mat- 
rimonial offers from many quarters ; but as her castle was, for 
those days, a durably safe residence, such as the auctioneers 
of the present time would denominate a genuine, undeniable 
mansion, the country squires determined she should marry one 
of them, since marry willingly she would not — but they nearly 
fell to loggerheads who should run away with her. Almost 
every one of them had previously put the question to her by 
jlag of truce, as they all stood in too much awe of the lady to 
do it personally ; and at length, teased by their importunities, 
she gave notice of her intention to hang the next flag of trace 
who brought any such impudent proposals. 

Upon this information, they finally agreed to decide by lot 
who should be the hero to surprise and carry of Elizabeth, 
which was considered a matter of danger on account of the 
warders, who would receive no other commandant. 

Elizabeth got wind of their design and place of meeting, 
which was to be in the old castle of E-euben, near Athy. Elev- 
en or twelve of the squires privately attended at the appointed 
hour, and it was determined that whoever should be the lucky 
winner, was to receive the aid and assistance of the others in 
bearing away the prize, and gaining her hand. To this effect, 
a league offensive and defensive was entered between them— 
one part of which went to destroy Elizabeth's warders, root 
and branch ; and, to forward their object, it was desirable, if 
possible, to procure some inmate of the castle, who, by fair or 
foul means would inform them of the best mode of entry ; this 
caused the attempt to carry off old Jug Ogie. 

However, they were not long in want of a spy : for Eliza- 
beth, hearing of their plan from the gassoon of Reuben (a 



34: ELIZABETH FITZGEEALD. 

nepliew of Jug's) determined to take advantage of it. " My 
lady," said Jug Ogie, ** pretend to turn me adrift in a dark 
night, and give out that my gassoon here was found robbing 
you — they'll soon get wind of it, and I'll be the very person 
the squires want, and then you'll hear all." 

The matter was agreed on, and old Jug Ogie and the gas- 
soon were turned out, as thieves, to the great surprise of the 
warders and the country. But Jug was found and hired as 
she expected ; and soon comfortably seated in the kitchen at 
Castle Eeuben, with the gassoon, whom she took in as a kitch- 
en-boy. She gave her tongue its full fling, told a hundred 
stories about her " devil of a mistress," and undertook to in- 
form the squires of the best way to get to her apartment. 

Elizabeth was now sure to learn everything so soon as de- 
termined on. The faction had arranged all matters for the 
capture : the night of its execution approached : the old cook 
prepared a good supper for the quality, the squires arrived, and 
the gassoon had to run only three miles to give the lady the 
intelligence. Twelve cavaliers attended, each accompanied 
by one of the ablest of his faction, for they were all afraid of 
each other whenever the wine should rise upward. 

The lots, being formed of straw of different lengths, were 
held by the host, who was disinterested, and the person of 
Elizabeth, her fortune, and Moret castle, fell to the lot of 
Cromarty O'Moore, one of the Oremorgan squires, and accord- 
ing to tradition, as able-bodied, stout a man as any in the 
whole country. The rest all swore to assist him till death ; and 
one in the morning was the time appointed for the surprise of 
Elizabeth and her castle — while in the meantime they began 
to enjoy the good supper of old Jug Ogie. 

Castle Reuben had been one of the strongest places in the 
county, situated in the midst of a swamp, which rendered it 
nearly inaccessible. It had belonged to a natural son of one 
of the Geraldines, who had his throat cut by a gamekeeper of 
his own ; and nobody choosing to interfere with the sportsman, 
he remained peaceably in possession of the castle, and now 
accommodated the squires with it during their plot against 
Elizabeth. 



PREPAEATIOXS, OFFEXSITE AXD DEFEXSIYE. 35 

That heroic dame, on lier part, was not inactive ; she in- 
formed her warders of the scheme to force a new master on 
her and them ; and many a ronnd oath she swore (with coiTe- 
sponding gesticulations, the description of which wonkl not he 
over-agreeable to modern readers) that she never would grant 
her favors to man, hut preserve her castle and her chastity to 
the last extremity. 

^ The warders took fire at the attempt of the squires. They 
always detested the defensive system ; and prohably to that 
hatred may be attributed a few of the robberies, burglaries, 
and burnings, which in those times were little more than 
occasional pastime.s. 

" Arrah ! lady," said Keeran Karry, "how many rogues 'ill 
there be at Reuben, as you larn, to-night 1 — arrah !" 

"I hear only four-and-twenty," said Elizabeth, ''besides 
the MOIahons." 

"Right, a'nuff," said Keeran, "the fish in the Barrow must 
want food this hard weather ; and I can't see why the rump 
of a rapparee may not make as nice a tit-bit for them as any- 
thing else." 

All then began to speak together, and join most heartily in 
the meditated attack. 

"Arrah! run for the priest," says Xed Regan, "may be 
you'd like a touch of his reverence's office first, for fear there 
might be any sin in it." 

"I thought you'd like him with your brandy, warders," said 
Elizabeth, with dignity; "I have him below: he's praying a 
little, and will be up directly. The whole plan is ready for 
you, and Jug Ogie has the signal. Here, Keeran," giving 
him a green riband, with a daub of old Squire Fitzgerald, 
who was hanged, dangling to the riband, "if you and the war- 
ders do not bring me their captain's ear, you have neither the 
courage of a weasel, nor — nor" (striking her breast hard with 
her able hand) " even the revenge of a woman in you." 

"Arrah, be asy, m}^ lady !" said Keeran, "be asy ! by my 
sowl, we'll bring you four-and-twenty pair, if your ladyship 
have any longing for the ears of such villains." • 

"Now, warders," said Elizabeth, who was too cautious to 



36 ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

leave her castle totally nngnarded, " as we are going to be just, 
let us be also generous ; there's only tAventy-four of them, be- 
sides the M' Mahons Avill be there. Now it would be an eter- 
nal disgrace to Moret, if we went to 0Yer2)0Aver them by 
numbers : twenty-four chosen warders, Father Murphy, and 
the corporal, the gassoon and the piper, are all that shall leave 
the castle to-night; and if Castle Reuben is let to stand till 
daybreak to-morrow, I hope, none of you will come back to 
me again." 

The priest now made his appearance ; he certainly seemed 
rather as if he had not been idle below during the colloquy on 
the leads ; and the deep impressions upon the bottle which he 
held in his hand, gave grounds to suppose that he had been 
very busy and earnest in his devotions. 

"My flock !" said Father Murphy, rather lispihgly. 

"Arrah!" said Keeran Karry, "we're not sheep to-night: 
never mind your flocks just now, father ! give us a couple of 
glasses apiece ! — time enough for mutton-making." 

"You are right, my chickens !" bellowed forth Father Mur- 
phy, throwing his old black surtout over his shoulder, leaving 
the empty sleeves dangling at full liberty, and putting a knife 
and fork in his pocket for ulterior operations : " I forgive every 
mother's babe of you everything you choose to do till sunrise : 
but if you commit any sin after that time, as big even as the 
blacks of my nele, I can't take charge of yeer sowl, without a 
chance of disappointing you." 

All was now in a bustle: — the brandy circulated merrily, 
and each warder had in his own mind made mince-meat of 
three or four of the Eeuben faction, whose ears they fancied 
already in their pockets. The priest marked down the "De 
profundis" in the leaves of his double manual, to have it ready 
for the burials : — every man took his skeen in his belt — had 
a thick club, with a strong spike at the end of it. Slung with a 
stout leather thong to his wrist ; and under his coat, a sharp 
broad hatchet, with a black blade and a crooked handle. And 
thus, in silence, the twenty-five Moret warders set out with 
their priest, the piper, and the gassoon with, a copper-pot 



AREIVAL AT CASTLE UEUBP:N. 37 

slung over Ms slioiilders, and a piece of poker in Ms hand, on 
their expedition to the castle of Reuben. 

Before twelve o'clock, the warders, the priest, Keeran Karry, 
and the castle-piper, had arrived in the utmost silence and se- 
crecy. In that sort of large inhabited castle, the principal 
entrance was through the farm-yard, which was, indeed gen- 
erally the only assailable quarter. In the present instance, 
the gate was half open, and the house lights appeared to have 
been collected in the rear, as was judged from their reflection 
in the water of the Barrow, which ran close under the win- 
dows. A noise was heard, but not of drunkenness ; it was a 
sound as if for preparation for battle. Now and then a clash 
of steel, as if persons were practising at the sword or skeen for 
the offensive, was going forw^ard in the hall ; and a loud laugh 
was occasionally heard. The warders foresaw it would not 
be so easy a business as they had contemplated, and almost 
regretted that they had not brought a less chivalrous numeri- 
.cal force. 

It was concerted that ten men should creep upon their hands 
and feet to the front entrance, and wait there until, by some 
accident, it might be sufficiently open for the ferocious rush 
which was to surprise their opponents. 

But Keeran, always discreet, had some forethought that 
more than usual caution would be requisite. He had counted 
on dangers which the others had never dreamed of, and his pru- 
dence, in all probability, saved the lives of many of the war- 
ders. He preceded his men, crawling nearly on his breast; 
he had suspected that a dog overheard them, and a bark soon 
confirmed the tnith of that suspicion, and announced the pos- 
sibility of discovery. Keeran, however, was prepared for this 
circumstance ; he had filled Ms pockets with pieces of bacon, 
impregnated with a concentrated preparation of nux vomica, 
then, and at a much later period, well known to the clergy 
and spirituals, I can not tell for what purpose, nor shall I here 
inquire. Its effect on dogs was instantaneous ; and the savory 
bacon having rendered them quite greedy to devour it, it had 
now an immediate effect on two great mastiffs and a wolf-dog 
who roamed about the yard at night. On taking each a por- 



38 ELIZABETH FITZGEEALD. 

tion, tliey quickly resigned their share of the contest without 
further noise. , 

Keeran advanced craAvling to the door ; he found it fast, but 
having listened, he soon had reason to conjecture that the in- 
mates were too well-armed and numerous to make the result 
of the battle at all certain. He crept back to the hedge, and 
having informed the warders of the situation in which they 
were placed, they one and all swore they would enter or die. 
The priest had lain himself down under a hay-stack in the 
outer hay-yard, and the piper had retired nobody knew where, 
nor in fact did anybody care much about him, as he was but 
a very indifferent chanter, 

Keeran now desired the warders to handle their hatchets, 
and be prepared for an attack so soon as they should see the 
front door open and hear three strokes on the copper kettle. 
The gassoon had left that machine on a spot which he had de- 
scribed near the gate, and Keeran requested that, in case of 
any fire, they should not mind it till the kettle sounded. He 
then crawled away, and they saw no more of him. 

The moments were precious, and seemed to advance too 
fast. At one o'clock a body armed possibly better than them- 
selves, and probably more numerous, would surely issue from 
the castle on their road to Moret, well prepared for combat. 
The result in such a case might be very precarious. The war- 
ders by no means felt pleased with their situation ; and the 
absence of their leader, priest, and piper, gave no additional 
ideas of conquest or security. In this state of things near half 
an hour had elapsed, when of a sudden they perceived, on the 
side of the hay-yard toward their ov/n position, a small blaze 
of fire issue from the corn-rstalk^ — in a moment another, and 
another ! The conflagration was most impetuous ; it appeared 
to be devouring everything, but as yet was not perceived by 
the inmates at the rear of the house. At length volumes of 
flame illuminated by reflection the waters of the river under 
the back windows. The rwarders now expecting the sally 
rubbed their hands well with bees' wax, and grasped tightly 
their hatchets, yet moved not ; breathless, with a ferocious 
anxiety, they awaited the event in almost maddening suspense. 



AN UNLOOKED-FOR ATTACK. 39 

A loud noise now issued from the interior of the house : the 
fire was perceived by the garrison — still it might he acciden- 
tal—the front door was thrown open, and near thirty of the 
inmates poured out, some fully, others not fully armed. They 
rushed into the hay-yard — some cried out it was " treachery !" 
while others vociferated " accident ! accident !" All was con- 
fusion, and many a stout head afterward paid for its incredulity. 

At that moment the copper kettle was beaten rapidly and 
with force : a responsive sound issued from the house — the 
garrison hesitated, but hesitation was quickly banished ; for 
on the first blow of the kettle the warders, in a compact body, 
with hideous yells, rushed on the astonished garrison, who had 
no conception who their enemies could be. Every hatchet 
found its victim ; limbs, features, hands, were chopped off with- 
out mercy— death or dismemberment followed nearly every 
blow of that brutal weapon, while the, broad sharp skeens soon 
searched the bodies of the wounded, and almost half the garri- 
son were annihilated before they were aware of the foe by 
whom they had been surprised. The survivors, however, soon 
learned the cause (perhaps merited) of their comrades' slaugh- 
ter. The warcry of "A Gerald! a Gerald! a Gerald!" — 
which now accompanied every crash of the n^irderous hatchet, 
or every plunge of the broad-bladed skeen, informed them who 
they were fighting with ; fifteen or sixteen still remained un- 
wounded of the garrison — their case was desperate. Keeran 
Karry now headed his warders. The gassoon rapidly and 
fiercely struck the copper, in unison with the sound of the fatal 
weapons, while the old and decrepit Jug Ogie, within the cas- 
tle, repeated the same sound, thereby leading the garrison to 
believe to retreat inside the walls would only be to encounter 
a fresh enemy. 

The affair, however, was far from being finished ; the survi- 
vors rapidly retired, and got in a body to the position first oc- 
cupied by Keeran's warders. They were desperate, they knew 
they must die, and determined not to go alone to the other re- 
gions. The flames still raged with irresistible fury in the 
hay-yard. It was Keeran who had set fire to the corn and 
hay, which materials produced an almost supernatural height 



40 ELIZABETH FITZGEKALD. 

of blaze and impetuosity of conflagration. The survivors of 
the garrison were at once fortified, and concealed from view, 
by a high holly hedge, and awaited their turn to become as- 
sailants ; it soon arrived. From the midst of burning ricks in 
the hay-yard a shrill and piercing cry was heard to issue, of 
" Ough, murther — murther ! the devil — the devil ! ough Holy 
Virgin, save me ! if there is any marcy, save me !" The voice 
was at once recognised by the warriors of Moret, as that of 
their priest Ned Murphy, who had fallen asleep under a hay- 
stack, and never awakened till the flames had seized upon his 
cloak. Bewildered, he knew not how to escape, being met, 
wherever he ran, by crackling masses. He roared and cursed 
to the full extent of his voice : and gave himself up for lost, 
though fortunately, as the materials of his habit djd not asso- 
ciate with flame, he was not dangerously burned, although he 
suff'ered somewhat in his legs. No sooner did they perceive 
his situation, than the warders, each man forgetting himself, 
rushed to save their " clergy," on whom they conceived their 
own salvation entirely to depend. They now imagined that 
the fight was ended, and prepared to enjoy themselves by the 
plunder of Castle Eeuben. 

This was the moment for the defeated garrison ; with a loud 
yell of " A Moore, a Moore ! a Moore !" they fell in their turn 
upon the entangled warders in the hay-yard, five of whom had 
been wounded, and one killed in the first fi'ay, while many 
had subsequently thrown down their hatchets to receive their 
pastor, and had only their spikes and skeens wherewith to de- 
fend themselves. The battle now became more serious, because 
more doubtful, than at its commencement. Several of the war- 
ders were wounded, and four more lay dead at the entrance to 
the hay-yard ; their spirit was dashed, and their adversaries 
laid on with the fury of desperation. Keeran Karry had re- 
ceived two sword-thrusts through his shoulder _and could fight 
no more ; but he could do better, he could command. He 
called to the warders to retreat and take possession of the cas- 
tle, which was now untenanted ; this step saved them ; they 
retired hither v,^ith all possible rapidity, pursued by the former 
garrison of the place, who however were not able to enter with 



A FOELORN HOPE VICTOKY. 41 

tLem, but killed another man before the doors were fast closed. 
Keeran directed the thick planks and flag-stones to be torn up,' 
thereby leaving the hall open to the cellar beneath, as had 
been done at Moret. The enemy wejre at bay at the door, and 
could not advance, but, on the other hand, many of the war- 
ders having, as we before stated, flung away their hatchets, 
were ill-armed. The moment was critical : Keeran, however, 
was never at a loss for some expedient ; he counted his men ; 
five had been killed in the hay-yard, and one just outside the 
walls ; several others were wounded, among whom was the 
piper, who had been asleep. Keeran told the warders that he 
feared the sun might rise on their destruction, if something 
were not immediately done. " Are there," said he, " five 
among ye, who are willing to swap your lives for the victory ?" 
Everyman cried out for himself — and " I ! — I ! — I !" — echoed 
through the hall. " Well !" said Keeran, who without delay di- 
rected five men and the gassoon with the copper kettle, to ste 
out at the back of the castle, creep through the hedges, anc 
get round directly into the rear of the foe before they attacked ; 
having succeeded in which, they were immediately to advance 
beating the vessel strongly. " They will suppose," said the 
warlike Keeran, " that it is a reinforcement, and we shall then 
return the sound from within. If they believe it to be a re- 
inforcement, they will submit to mercy ; if not, we'll attack 
them front and rear, and as our numbers are pretty equal, very 
few of us on either side will tell the story to our childer ! but 
we'll have as good a chance as them villains." 

This scheme was carried into immediate execution, and 
completely succeeded. The enemy, who were now grouped 
outside the door, hearing the kettle in the rear, supposed that 
they should be at once attacked by a sally and from behind. 
Thinking that they had now only to choose between death 
and submission, the mercy which was offered, they accepted ; 
and peep-o'day being arrived, the vanquished agreed to throw 
their arms into the well — to swear before the priest that they 
never would disturb, or aid in disturbing. Lady Elizabeth, or 
the castle of Moret — that no man on either side, should be 
called upon by law for his fighting that night; and finally, 



42 ELIZABETH FITZGERALD. 

that the person who had succeeded in drawing the lot for 
Elizabeth, should deliver up the lock of his hair that grew 
next his ear to testify his submission : this latter clause, how- 
ever, was stipulated needlessly, as Cromarty O'Moore was 
discovered in the farm-yard, with nearly all his face cut off, 
and several skeen wounds in his arms and body. Early in the 
morning, the dead were buried without noise or disturbance, 
and both parties breakfasted together in perfect cordiality and 
good humor : those who fell were mostly tenants of the squires. 
The priest, having had his burnt legs and arm dressed with 
chewed herbs by Jug Ogie, said a full mass, and gave all 
parties double absolution, as the affair was completed by the 
rising of the sun. The yard was cleared of blood and havoc ; 
the warders and garrison parted in perfect friendship ; and the 
former returned to the castle, bringing back Jug Ogie to her 
impatient mistress. Of the warders, thirteen returned safe ; 
six remained behind badly wounded, and six were dead. 
Keeran's wounds were severe, but they soon healed ; and 
Elizabeth afterAvard resided at Moret to a very late period in 
the reign of George I. E-euben soon changed its occupant, 
M' Mahon, who was hanged for the murder of his master : and 
that part of the country has since become one of the most civil- 
ized of the whole province. 

I have given the foregoing little history iij full, inasmuch as 
it is but little known, is strictly matter of fact, and exhibits a 
a curious picture of the state of Irish society arid manners in 
or about the year 1690. 



A GRATEFUL PEASAN'TSY. 4:3 



IRISH GENTEY AND THEIR RETAINERS. 

Instances of Attachment formerly of the Lower Orders of Irish to the Gentry — A Field of 
Corn (jf my Father's reaped in one Night without his Knowledge — My Grandfather's 
Servants cut a Man's Ears off by Mi^^intt-ipretation — My Grandfather and Grandmother 
trif^d for the fact — Acquitted — The Colliers of Donane — Their Fidelity at my Election 
"at Ballynakill, 1790. 

The numerous and remarkable instances, wliich came within 
my own observation, of mutual attacliment between tbe Irish, 
peasantry and their landlords in former times, would fill vol- 
umes. A feAv only will suffice, in addition to what has already 
been stated, to show the nature of that reciprocal good- will, 
which on many occasions was singularly useful to both : and 
in selecting these instances from such as occurred in my own 
family T — I neither mean to play the vain egotist nor to deter- 
mine generals by particulars, since good landlords and attached 
peasantry were then spread over the entire face of Ireland, and 
bore a great proportion to the whole country. 

I remember that a very extensive field of corn of my father's 
had once become too ripe, inasmuch as all the reapers in the 
country were employed in getting in their own scanty crops 
before they shedded. Some of the servants had heard my 
father regret that he could not by possibility get in his reapers 
without taking them from these little crops, and that he would 
sooner lose his own. 

This field was within full view of our windows. My father 
had given up the idea of being able to cut his corn in due time. 
One morning, when he rose, he could not believe his sight : — 
he looked — rubbed his eyes — called the servants, and asked 
them if they saw anything odd in the field : — t];iey certainly 
did — for, on our family retiring to rest the night before, the 
whole body of the peasantry of the country, after their hard 
labor during the day, had come upon the great field, and had 
reaped and stacked it before dawn ! None of them would even 
tell him who had a hand in it. Similar instances of affection re- 
peatedly took place ; and no tenant on any of the estates of my 
family was ever distrained, or even pressed, for rent. Their 



44: ■ IRISH GENTRY AND THEIR RETAINERS. 

gratitude for this knew no bounds ; and the only individuals 
who ever annoyed them were the parsons by their proctors, 
and the tax-gatherers for hearth-money ; and though hard 
cash was scant with both landlord and tenant, and no small 
bank-notes had got into circulation, provisions were plentiful, 
and but little inconvenience was experienced by the peasantry 
from want of a circulating medium. There was constant resi- 
dence and work : no banks and no machinery : — and though 
the people might not be quite so refined, most undoubtedly 
they were vastly happier. 

But a much more characteristic proof than the foregoing of the 
extraordinary devotion of the lower to the higher orders in 
Ireland, in former times, occurred in my family and is on record. 

My grandfather, Mr. French, of County Galway, was a re- 
markably small, nice little man, but of an extremely, irritable 
temperament. He was an excellent swordsman ; and as was 
often the case in that country, proud to excess. 

Some relics of feudal arrogance frequently set the neigh- 
bors and their adherents together by the ears: — my grand- 
father had conceived a contempt for, and antipathy to, a sturdy 
half-mounted gentleman, one Mr. Dennis Bodkin, who, having 
an independent mind, entertained an equal aversion to the ar- 
rogance of my grandfather, and took every possible opportu- 
nity of irritating and opposing him. 

My grandmother, an O'Brien, was high and proud — steady 
and sensible ; but disposed to be rather violent at times in her 
contempts and animosities and entirely agreed with her husband 
in his detestation of Mr. Dennis Bodkin. 

On some occasion or other, Mr. Dennis had outdone his usual 
outdoings, and chagrined the squire and his lady most out- 
rageously. A large company dined at my grandfather's and 
my grandmother launched out in her abuse of Dennis, con- 
cluding her exordium by an hyperbole of hatred expressed, 
but not at all meant, in these words: "I wish the fellow's 
ears were cut off! that might quiet him." 

It passed over as usual : the subject changed, and all went 
on comfortably till supper ; at which time, when everybody 
was in full glee, the old butler Ned Eegan (who had drank 



CUTTING OFF DE^'NIS BODKIN 's EAKS. 45 

enough) came in : — joy was in his eye ; and whispering some- 
thing to his mistress which she did not comprehend, he put ,a 
large snuff-box into her hand. Fancying it was some whim of 
her old domestic, she opened the box and shook out its con- 
tents : — when lo ! a considerable portion of a pair of bloody 
ears dropped on the table! — The horror and surprise of the 
company may be conceived : upon which old Ned exclaimed 
— " Sure, my lady, you wished that Dennis Bodkin's ears were 
cut off, so I told old Gahagan (the game-keeper) and he took 
a few boys with him, and brought back Dennis Bodkin's ears, 
and there they are ; and I hope you are plazed, my lady !" 

The scene may be imagined — but its results had like to 
have been of a more serious nature. The sportsman and the 
boys were ordered to get off as fast as they could ; but my 
grandfather and graiidmother were held to heavy bail, and 
were tried at the ensuing assizes at Galway. The evidence 
of the entire company, however, united in proving that my 
grandmother never had an idea of any such order, and that it 
was a mistake on the part of the servants. They were, of 
course, acquitted. The sportsman never reappeared in the 
county till after the death of Dennis Bodkin, which took place 
three years subsequently. 

This anecdote may give the reader an idea of the devotion 
of servants, in those days, to their masters. The order of 
things is now reversed ; and the change of times can not be 
better proved than by the propensity servants now have to rob 
(and, if convenient, murder) the families from whom they de- 
rive their daily bread. Whpre the remote error lies, I know 
not ; but certainly the ancient fidelity of domestics seems to 
be totally out of fashion Avith those gentry at present. 

A more recent instance of the same feeling as that illustrated 
by the two former anecdotes — namely, the devotion of the 
country people to old settlers and families — occurred to my- 
self, which, as I am upon the subject, I will now mention. I 
stood a contested election in the year 1790, for the borough 
of Ballynakill, for which my ancestors had returned two mem- 
bers to parliament during nearly two hundred years. It was 
usurped by the marquis of Drogheda, and I contested it. 



4:6 IKISH GENTRY A]Si> THEIR RETAINERS. 

On the day of tlie election, my eldest brother and myself 
being candidates, and the business preparing to begin, a cry 
was heard that the whole colliery was coming down from Do- 
nane, about ten miles off. The returning officer, Mr. French, 
lost no time : six voters were polled against me ; mine were 
refused generally in mass. The books were repacked, and the 
poll declared — the election ended, and my opponents just re- 
tiring from the town — when seven or eight hundred colliers 
entered it with colors flying and pipers playing. Their faces 
were all blackened, and a more tremendous assemblage was 
scarce ever seen. After the usual shoutings, &c., the chief 
captain came up to me. "Counsellor dear!" said he, "we're 
all come from Donane to help your honor against the villains 
that oppose you : we're the boys that can tittivate ! — Barring- 
ton for ever ! hurra !" Then coming close to me, and lower- 
ing his tone, he added : " Counsellor, jewel ! which of the vil- 
lains shall we settle first V' 

To quiet him, I shook his black hand, told him nobody 
should be hurt, and that the gentlemen had all left the town. 

" "Why then, counsellor," said he, " we'll be after overtaking 
them. Barrington for ever ! — Donane, boys !" 

I feared that I had no control over the riotous humor of the 
colliers, and knew but one mode of keeping them quiet. I 
desired Billy Howard, the innkeeper, to bring out all the ale 
he had ; and having procured many barrels in addition, to- 
gether with all the bread and cheese in" the place, I set them 
at it as hard as might be. I told them I was sure of being 
elected in Dublin, and ^^ to stay asy^'' (their own language); 
and in a little time I made them as tractable as lambs. They 
made a bonfire in the evening, and about ten o'clock I left 
them as happy and merry a set of colliers as ever existed. 
Such as were able strolled back in the night, and the others 
next morning, and not the slightest injury was done to any 
body or any thing. 

This was a totally unexpected and voluntary proof of the 
disinterested and ardent attachment of the Irish country peo- 
ple to all whom they thought would protect or procure them 
justice. 



MR. MICHAEL LODGE. 47 



MY EDUOATIOK 

My Godfathers — Lord Maryborough — Personal Description and Extraordinary Character 
of Mr. Michael Lodge — My Early Education — At Home — At School — My Private Tutor, 
Kev. P. Crawley, described — Defects of the University Course — Lord Donoughmore's 
Father — Anecdote of the Vice-Provost — A Country Sportsman's Education. 

My godfathers were Mr. Pool, of Ballyfin, and Captain Pig- 
ott, of Brocologh park ; and I must have been a very pleasant 
infant, for Mr. Pool, having no children, desired to take me 
home with him, in which case I should probably have cut out 
of feather avery^ood person and a very kind friend — the 
present Lord Maryborough, whom Mr. Pool afterward adopted 
while a midshipman in the navy, and bequeathed him a noble 
demesne and a splendid estate near my father's. My family 
have always supported Lord Maryborough for Queen's county, 
and his lordship's tenants supported me in my hard-contested 
election for Maryborough in 1800. 

No public functionary could act more laudably than Mr. 
Pool did while secretary in Ireland ; and it must be a high 
gratification to him to reflect that, in the year 1800, he did not 
abet the degradation of his country. 

Captain Pigott expressed the same desire to patronize me 
as Mr. Pool — received a similar refusal, and left his property, 
I believe, to a parcel of hospitals : while I was submitted to 
the guardianship of Colonel Jonah Barrington, and the instruc- 
tions of Mr. Michael Lodge, a person of very considerable con- 
sequence in my early memoirs, and to whose ideas and eccen- 
tricities I really believe I am indebted for a great proportion 
of my own, and certainly not the worst of them. 

Mr. George Lodge had married a love-daughter of old Ste- 
phen Fitzgerald, Esq., of Bally Thomas, who by affinity was a 
relative of the house of Cullenaghmore, and from this union 
sprang Mr. Michael Lodge. 

I shall never forget his figure ! He was a tall man, with 
thin legs and great hands, arid was generally biting one of his 
nails while employed in teaching me. The top of his head 
was half bald; his hair was clubbed with a rose riband; a 



48 MY EDUCATION. 

tight stock, Avitli a large silver buckle to it beliind, appeared 
to be almost choking him ; his chin and jaws were very long — 
and he used to hang his nnder-jaw, shut one e^^e, and look up 
to the ceiling, when he was thinking or trying to recollect 
anything. 

Mr. Michael Lodge had been what is called a matross in the 
artillery service. My grandfather had got him made a ganger ; 
but he was turned adrift for letting a poor man do something 
wrong about distilling. He then became a land-surveyor and 
architect for the farmers : he could farry, cure cows of the mur- 
rain, had numerous secrets about cattle and physic, and was 
accounted the best bleeder and bonesetter in that county — all 
of which healing accomplishments he exercised gratis. He 
was also a famous brewer and accountant — in fine, was every- 
thing at Cullenagh — -steward, agent, caterer, farmer, sports- 
man, secretary, clerk to the colonel as a m.agistrate, and also 
clerk to Mr. Barret as the parson : but he would not sing a 
stave in church, though he'd chant indefatigably in the hall. 
He had the greatest contempt for women, and used to beat the 
maid-servants ; while the men durst not vex him, as he was 
quite despotic ! He had a turning-lathe, a number of grinding- 
stones, and a carpenter's bench, in his room. He used to tin 
the saucepans, which act he called chemistry ; and I have seen 
him, like a tailor, putting a new cape to his riding-coat ! He 
made all sorts of nets, and knit stockings ; but, above all, he 
piqued himself on the variety and depth of his learning. 

Under the tuition of this Mr. Michael Lodge, who was sur- 
named " The wise man of Cullenaghmore," I was placed at 
four years of age, to learn as much of the foregoing as he could 
teach me in the next five years : at the expiration of which 
period he had no doubt of my knowing as much as himself, 
and then (he said) I should go to school " to teach the master.^* 

This idea of teaching the master was the greatest possible 
incitement to me ; and as there was no other child in the house, 
I never was idle, but was as inquisitive and troublesome as can 
be imagined. Everything was explained to me ; and I not 
only got on surprisingly, but my memory was found to be so 
strong, that Mr. Michael Lodge told my grandfather half learn- 



ELEMENTARY COURSE. 49 

ing would answer me as well as whole learning would another 
child. In truth, before my sixth year, I was making a very 
great hole in Mr. Lodge's stock of information (fortification 
and gunnery excepted), and I verily -believe he only began to 
learn many things himself when he commenced teaching them 
to me. 

He took me a regular course by Horn-book, Primer, Spel- 
ling-book, Reading-made-easy, ^sop's Fables, &c. ; but I soon 
aspired to such of the old library-books as had pictures in 
them ; and particularly, a very large history of the Bible, with 
cuts, was my constant study. Hence I knew how every saint 
was murdered ; and Mr. Lodge not only told me that each mar- 
tyr had a painter to take his likeness before his death, but also 
fully explained to me how they had all sat for their pictures, 
and assured me that most of them had been murdered by the 
papists. I recollect at this day the faces of every one of them 
at their time of martyrdom ; so strongly do youthful impres- 
sions sink into the mind, when derived from objects which at 
the time were viewed with interest.* 

Be this as it may, however, my wise man, Mr. Michael 
Lodge, used his heart, head, and hands, as zealously as he 
could, to teach me most things that he did know, and many 
things he did not know ; but, with a skill which none of our 
schoolmasters practise, he made me think he was only amu- 
sing instead of giving me a task. The old man tried to 
make me inquisitive, and inclined to ask about the thing 
which he wanted to explain to me ; and consequently, at 
eight years old, I could read prose and poetry, write text — 
draw a house, a horse, and a gamecock — tin a copper sauce- 
pan, and turn my own tops. I could do the manual exercise 
with my grandfather's crutch ; and had learned, besides, how 
to make bullets, pens, and blackball ; to dance a jig, sing a 

* Formerly the chimneys were all covered with tiles, having scripture- 
pieces, examples of natural history, (fee., daubed on them ; and there being 
a great variety, the father or mother (sitting of a winter's evening round 
the hearth with the young ones) explained the meaning of the tiles out of 
the Bible, &c. ; so that the impression was made without being called a les- 
son, and the child acquired knowledge without thinking that it was being 
taught. So far as it went, this was one of the best modes of instruction. 

3 



50 MY EDUCATION. 

cronane, and play tlie jcAv's-liarp. Micliacl also showed me, 
out of scripture, how the world stood stock still while the sun 
was galloping round it ; so that it was no easy matter at col- 
lege to satisfy me as to the Copernican system. In fact, the 
old matross gave me such a various and whimsical assemblage 
of subjects to think about, that my young brain imbibed as 
many odd, chivalrous, and puzzling theories, as would drive 
some children out of their senses ; and, truly, I found it no 
easy matter to get rid of several of them when it became abso- 
lutely necessary, while some I shall certainly retain till my 
death's day. 

This course of education I most sedulously followed, until it 
pleased God to suspend my learning by the death of my grand- 
father, on whom I doated. He had taught me the broadsword 
exercise with his cane, how to snap a pistol, and shoot with 
the bow and arrow ; and had bespoken a little quarter-staff to 
perfect me in that favorite exercise of his youth, by which he 
had been enabled to knock a gentleman's brains out for a wa- 
ger, on the ridge of Maryborough, in company with the grand- 
father of the present Judge Arthur Moore, of the common pleas 
of Ireland. It is a whimsical gratification to me to think that 
I do not at this moment forget much of the said instruction 
which I received either from Michael Lodge the matross, or 
from Colonel Jonah Barrington, though after a lapse of nearly 
sixty years ! 

A new scene was now to be opened to me. I was carried 
to Dublin, and put to the famous schoolmaster of that day. Dr. 
Ball, of St. Michael-a-Powel's, Ship street ; and here my puz- 
zling commenced in good earnest. I was required to learn the 
English grammar in the Latin tongue, and to translate lan- 
guages without understanding any of them. I Avas taught 
prosody without verse, and rhetoric without composition ; and 
before I had ever heard any oration except a sermon, I was 
flogged for not minding my emphasis in recitation. To com- 
plete my satisfaction — for fear I should be idle during the 
course of the week, castigation was regularly administered ev- 
ery Monday morning, to give me, by anticipation, a sample of 
what the repetition-day might produce. 



MY TUTOR ENTEK THE UNIVEESITY. 51 

However, not with standing all this, I worked my way, got 
two premiums, and at length was reported fit to be placed un- 
der the hands of a private tutor, by whom I was to h^ finisJied 
for the university. 

That tutor was well-known many years in Digges street, 
Dublin, and cut a still more extraordinary figure than the 
matross. He was* the Rev. Patrick Crawley, rector of Kill- 
gobbin, whose son, my schoolfellow, was hanged a few years 
ago for murdering two old women with a shoemaker's hammer. 
My tutor's person was, in my imagination, of the same genus 
as that of Caliban. His feet covered a considerable space of 
any room wherein. he stood, and his thumbs were so large that 
he could scarcely hold a book without hiding more than half 
the page of it : though bulky himself, his clothes doubled the 
dimensions proper to suit his body ; and an immense frouzy 
wig, powdered once a vfeek, covered a head, which, for size 
and form, might vie with a quarter-cask. 

Vaccination not having as yet plundered horned-cattle of 
their disorders, ' its predecessor had left evident proofs of 
attachment to the rector's countenance. That old Christian 
malady, the small-pox, which had resided so many centuries 
among our ancestors, and which modern innovations have 
endeavored to undermine, had placed his features in a perfect 
state of compactness and security — each being screwed quite 
tight to its neighbor, and every seam appearing deep and 
gristly, so that the whole visage appeared to defy alike the 
edge of the sharpest scalpel and the skill of the m'ost expert 
anatomist. 

Yet this was as good-hearted a parson as ever lived : affec- 
tionate, friendly, and, so far as Greek, Latin, Prosody, and 
Euclid went, excelled by few : and under him I acquired, in 
one year, more classical knowledge, than I had done during 
the former six, whence I was enabled, out of thirty-six pupils, 
early to obtain a place in the university of Dublin. 

The college course, at that time, though a very learned one, 
was ill-arranged, pedantic, and totally out of sequence. Stu- 
dents were examined in " Locke on the Human Understand- 
ing," before their own had arrived at the first stage of maturity; 



52 MY EDUCATION. 

and Euclid was pressed upon their reason before any one of 
them could comprehend a single problem. We were set to 
work at the most abstruse sciences before we had well-digested 
the simpler ones, and posed ourselves at optics, natural philoso- 
phy, ethics, astronomy, mathematics, metaphysics, &;c. &c., 
without the least relief from belles-lettres, modern history, 
geography, or poetry ; in short, without regard to any of those 
acq[uirements — the classics excepted, which form essential 
parts of a gentleman's education.* 

Nevertheless, I jogged on with hene for the classics — satis 
for the sciences — and mediocriter for the mathematics. I had, 
however, the mortification of seeing the stupidest fellows I 
ever met, at school or college, beat me out of the field in some 
of the examinations, and very justly obtain premiums for 
sciences which I could not bring within the scope of my com- 
prehension. 

My consolation is, that many men of superior talent to my- 
self came off no better; and I had the satisfaction of knowing 
that some of the most erudite, studious, and distinguished of 
my contemporary collegians, went raving — and others melan- 
choly — mad ; and I do believe, that there are at this moment 
five or six of the most eminent of my academic rivals roaring 
in asylums for lunatics. 

* Mr. Hutchinson, a later provost, father of Lord Donoiighmore, went 
into the opposite extreme ; a most excellent classic scholar himself, he wished 
to introduce every elegant branch of erudition; to cultivate the modern 
languages — -in short, to adapt the course to the education of men of rank as 
well as men of science. The plan was most laudable, but was voted not 
monastic enough — indeed, a polished gentleman would have operated like 
a gliost among those pedantic fellows. 

Mr. Hutchinson went too far in proposing a riding-house. The scheme 
drew forth from Dr. Duigenan a pamphlet called " Pranceriana," which 
turned the project and projector into most consummate, but very coarse and 
ill-natured ridicule. 

Dr. Barret, late vice-provost, dining at the table of the new provost, who 
lived in a style of elegance attempted by none of his predecessors, helped 
himself to what he thought a peach, but which happened to be a shape 
made of ice. On taking it into his mouth, never having tasted ice before, 
he supposed, from the pang given to his teeth, and the shock which his 
tongue and mouth instantly received, that the sensation was produced by 
heat. Starting up, therefore, he cried out (and it was the first oath he had 
ever uttered), '• I'm scalded^ by G — d ! " — ran home, and sent for the next 
apothecary. 



"accomplishments." 53 

When I seek amusement by tracing the fate of such of my 
school and college friends as I can get information about, I 
find that many of the most promising and conspicuous have 
met untimely ends ; and that most^of those men whose great 
talents distinguished them first in the university and afterward 
at the bar, had entered, as sizers, for provision as well as for 
learning ; indigence and genius were thus jointly concerned in 
their merited elevation ; and I am convinced that the finest 
abilities are frequently buried alive in affluence and in luxury. 
. The death of my grandmother, which now took place, made 
a very considerable change in my situation, and I had sense 
enough, though still very young, to see the necessity of turning 
my mind toward a preparation for some lucrative profession — 
either law, physic, divinity, or war. 

I debated on all these, as I thought, with great impartiality : 
the pedantry of college disgusted me with clericals ; wooden 
legs put me out of conceit with warfare ; the horror of death 
made me shudder at medicine ; and while the law was but a 
lottery-trade, too precarious for my taste, manufacture was too 
humiliating for my pride. Nothing, on the other hand, could 
induce me to remain a walking gentleman ; and so, every 
occupation that I could think of having its peculiar disqualifi- 
cation, I remained a considerable time in a state of great 
uncertainty and disquietude. 

Meanwhile, although my choice had nothing to do with the 
matter, I got almost imperceptibly engaged in that species of 
profession exercised by a young sportsman, whereby I was 
initiated into a number of accomplishments ten times worse than 
the negative ones of the walking gentleman : — namely, riding, 
drinking, dancing, carousing, hunting, shooting, fishing, fighting, 
racing, cock-fighting, &;c., &c. 

After my grandmother's death, as my father's country-house 
was my home, so my two elder brothers became my tutors — 
the rustices my precedents — and a newspaper my literature. 
However, the foundation for my propensities had been too 
well-laid to be easily rooted up ; and while I certainly, for a 
while, indulged in the habits of those around me, I was not at 
all idle as to the pursuits I had been previously accustomed to. 



64: miSH DISSIPATION IN 1778. 

I had a pretty good assortment of books of my own, and sel- 
dom passed a day without devoting some part of it to reading 
or letter- writing ; and though I certainly somewhat mis-spent, 
I can not accuse myself of having lost, the period I passed at 
Bladsfort, since I obtained a full insight into the manners, 
habits, and dispositions of the different classes of the Irish, in 
situations and under circumstances which permitted Nature to 
exhibit her traits without restraint or caution ; building on 
which foundation, my greatest pleasure has ever been that of 
adding to and embellishing the superstructure which my ex- 
perience and observation have since conspired to raise. 

It is quite impossible I can give a better idea of the dissipa- 
tion of that period, into which I was thus plunged, than by 
describing an incident I shall never forget, and which occurred 
very soon after my first entree into the sporting sphere. 



lEISH DISSIPATION IN 1778, 

The Huntsman's Cottage — Prftparations for a Sevpn-Days' Carousal — A Cock-fight — Welsh 
Main — Haiinony — A Cow and a Hogshead of Wine consumed by the Party — Comparison 
between former Dissipation and that of the Present Day — A Dandy at Dinner in Bond 
Street — Captain Parsons Hoye and His Nephew — Character and Deseiiption of Both — 
The Nephew Disinherited by His Uncle for Dandyism — Curious Anecdote of Dr. Jenkins 
piercing Admiral Cosby's Fist, 

Close to the kennel of my father's hounds, he had built a 
small cottage, which was occupied solely by an old huntsman, 
his older wife, and his nephew, a whipper-in. The chase, and 
the bottle, and the piper, were the enjoyments of winter ; and 
nothing could recompense a suspension of these enjoyments. 

My elder brother, justly apprehending that the frost and 
snow of Christmas might probably prevent their usual occupa- 
tion of the chase, determined to provide against any listless- 
ness during the shut-up period, by an uninterrupted match of 
what was called " hard-going," till the weather should break 
up. 

A hogshead of superior claret was therefore sent to the cot- 
tage of old Quin the huntsman ; and a fat cow killed, and 



PKEPARATIONS FOR CAEOIJSAL. 55 

plundered of her skin, was liung np by the heels. All the 
windoAvs were closed to keep out the light. One room, filled 
with straw and numerous blankets, was destined for a bed- 
chamber in com.mon ; and another was prepared as a kitchen 
for the use of the servants. Claret, cold, mulled, or buttered, 
was to be the beverage for the whole company ; and in addi- 
tion to the cow above-mentioned, chickens, bacon, and bread, 
were the only admitted viands. Wallace and Hosey, my 
father's and my brother's pipers, and Doyle, a blind but a 
famous fiddler, were employed to enliven the banquet, which it 
was determined should continue till the cow became a skeleton, 
and the claret should be on its stoop. 

My two elder brothers ; two gentlemen of the name of 
Taylor (one of them afterward a v^a-iter in India) ; a Mr. 
Barrington Lodge, a rough songster ; Frank Skeleton, a jester 
and butt ; Jemmy Moffat, the most knowing sportsman of the 
neighborhood ; and two other sporting gentlemen of the 
county, composed the fermanent bacchanalians. A few visiters 
were occasionally admitted. 

As for myself, I was too unseasoned to go through more 
than the first ordeal, which was on a frosty St. Stephen's day, 
when the " liar d- goer s,'^ partook of their opening banquet, and 
several neighbors were invited, to honor the commencement of 
what they called their '^ shut-up pilgrimaged 

The old huntsman v>^as the only male attendant ; and his 
ancient spouse, once a kitchen-maid in the family, now some- 
what resembling the amiable Leonarda in Gil Bias, vras the 
cook ; while the drudgery fell to the lot of the whipper-in. A 
long knife was prepared to cut collops from the cow ; a large 
turf fire seemed to court the gridiron ; the pot bubbled up as 
if proud of its contents, while plump white chickens floated in 
croAvds upon the surface of the water ; the simmering potatoes, 
just bursting their drab surtouts, exposed the delicate white- 
ness of their mealy bosoms ; the claret was tapped, and the 
long earthen wide-mouthed pitchers stood gaping under the 
impatient cock, to receive their portions. The pipers plied 
their chants ; the fiddler tuned his Cremona ; and never did 
any feast commence with more auspicious appearances of 



66 lEISH DISSIPATION IN 1778. 

hilarity and dissipation ; appearances which were not doomed 
to be falsified. 

I shall never forget the attraction this novelty had for my 
youthful mind. All thoughts but those of good cheer were for 
the time totally obliterated. A few curses were, it is true, 
requisite to spur on old Leonarda's skill, but at length the 
banquet entered ; the luscious smoked bacon, bedded on its 
cabbage mattrass, and partly obscured by its own savory 
steam, might have tempted the most fastidous of epicures ; 
while the round trussed chickens, ranged by the half dozen on 
hot pewter dishes, turned up their Avhite plump merry-thoughts, 
exciting equally the eye and appetite : fat collops of the hang- 
ing cow, sliced indiscriminately from her tenderest points, 
grilled over the clear embers upon a shining gridiron, half- 
drowned in their own luscious juices, and garnish-ed w^ith little 
pyramids of congenial shalots, smoked at the bottom of the 
well-furnished board. A prologue of cherry-bounce (brandy) 
preceded the entertainment, which was enlivened by hobnobs 
and joyous toasts. 

Numerous toasts, in fact, as was customary in those days, 
intervened to prolong and give zest to the repast — every man 
shouted forth his fair favorite, or convival pledge ; and each 
voluntarily surrendered a portion of his own reason, in bumpers 
to the beauty of his neighbor's toast. The pipers jerked from 
their bags appropriate planxties to every jolly sentiment : the 
jokers cracked the usual jests and ribaldry: one songster 
chanted the joys of wine and women ; another gave, in full 
glee, the pleasures of the fox-chase : the fiddler sawed his 
merriest jigs : the old huntsman sounded his horn, and thrust- 
ing his forefinger into his ear (to aid the quaver), gave the 
view holloa ! of nearly ten minutes' duration ; to which melody 
tally ho ! was responded by every stentorian voice. A fox's 
brush stuck into a candlestick, in the centre of the table, was 
worshipped as a divinity ! Claret flowed — bumpers were 
multiplied — and chicken, in the garb of spicy spitchcocks, as- 
sumed the name of devils to whet the appetites which it was 
impossible to conquer ! 

My reason gradually began to lighten me of its burden, and 



THE FIRST ORDEAL. 57 

in its last efforts kindly suggested the straw-cliamber as my 
asylum. Two couple of favorite hounds had been introduced 
to share in the joyous pastime of their friends and masters ; 
and the deep bass of their throats, excited by the shrillness of 
the huntsman's tenor, harmonized by two rattling pipers, a 
jigging fiddler, and twelve voices, in twelve different keys, all 
bellowing in one continuous, unrelenting chime — was the last 
point of recognition which Bacchus permitted me to exercise : 
for my eyes began to perceive a much larger company than the 
room actually cbntained ; the lights were more than doubled, 
without any virtual increase in their number ; and even the 
chairs and tables commenced dancing a series of minuets be- 
fore me. A faint " Tally-ho !" was attempted by my reluctant 
lips ; but I believe the effort was unsuccessful, and I soon lost, 
in the straw-room, all that brilliant consciousness of existence, 
in the possession of which the morning had found me so happy. 

Just as I was closing my eyes to a twelve-hours' slumber, I 
distinguished the general roar of " Stole away .'" which rose 
almost up to the roof of old Quin's cottage. 

At noon, next day, a scene of a different nature was exhib- 
ited. I found, on waking, two associates by my side, in as 
perfect insensibility as that from which I had just aroused. 
Our piper seemed indubitably dead ! but the fiddler, who had 
the privilege of age and blindness, had taken a hearty nap, 
and seemed as much alive as ever. 

The room of banquet had been re-an-anged by the old wo- 
man : sp itch cocked chickens, fried rashers, and broiled marrow- 
bones, appeared struggling for precedence. The clean cloth 
looked, itself, fresh and exciting ; jugs of mulled and buttered 
, claret foamed hot upon the refurnished table, and a better or 
heartier breakfast I never in my life enjoyed. 

A few members of the jovial crew had remained all night 
at their posts ; but I suppose alternately took some rest, as 
they seemed not at all affected by their repletion. Soap and 
hot water restored at once their spirits and their persons ; and 
it was determined that the rooms should be ventilated and 
cleared out for a cock-fight, to pass time till the approach of 
dinner. 

3* 



58 lEisn DISSIPATION m nre. 

In this battle-royal, every man backed bis own bird ; twelve 
of which courageous animals were set down together to fight 
it out — the survivor to gain all. In point of principle, the 
battle of the Horatii and Curiatii was reacted ; and in about 
an hour, one cock crowed out his triumph over the mangled 
body of his last opponent — ^being himself, strange to say, but 
little wounded. The other eleven lay dead ; and to the vic- 
tor was unanimously voted a writ of ease, with sole monarchy 
over the henroost for the remainder of his days : and I remem- 
ber him, for many years, the proud commandant of his poultry- 
yard and seraglio. 

Fresh visiters were introduced each successive day, and the 
seventh morning had arisen before the feast broke up. As 
that day advanced, the cow was proclaimed to. have furnished 
her full quantum of good dishes ; the claret was upon its stoop ; 
and the last gallon, mulled with a pound of spices, was drunk 
in tumblers to the next merry meeting ! Ail now retired to 
their natural rest, until the evening announced a different 
scene. 

An early supper, to be partaken of by all the young folks, 
of both sexes, in the neighborhood, was provided in the dwel- 
ling-house, to terminate the festivities. A dance, as usual, 
wound up the entertainment ; and what was then termed a 
" raking pot of tea" put a finishing stroke, in jollity and good- 
humor, to such a revel as I never saw before, and, I am sure, 
shall never see again. 

When I compare with the foregoing the habits of the pres- 
ent day, and see the grandsons of those joyous and vigorous 
sportsmen mincing their fish and tit-bits at their favorite box 
in Bond street ; amalgamating their ounce of salad on a silver 
saucer ; employing six sauces to coax one appetite ,• burning 
up the palate, to make its enjoyments the more exquisite ; 
sipping their acid claret, disguised by an olive or neutralized 
by a chestnut ; lisping out for the scented waiter, and paying 
him the price of a feast for the modicum of a Lilliputian, and 
the pay of a captain for the attendance of a blackguard — it 
amuses me extremely, and makes me speculate on what their 
forefathers would have done to those admirable Epicenes, if 



THEX AND KOW. 59 

tliey liad liad them at the " PilgTimage" in the hmitsman's 
cot ! 

To these extremes of former roughness and modern affecta- 
tion it Y.'oiild require the pen of such a writer as Fielding to . 
do ample justice. It m^ay, however, aiiord our reader some 
diversion to trace the degrees which led from the grossness of 
the former down to the effeminacy of the latter ; and these 
may, in a great measure, he collected from the various inci- 
dents which will he found scattered throughout these sketches 
of sixty solar revolutions. 

Nothing, indeed, can hetter illustrate the sensation which 
the grandfathers, oj- even aged fathers, of these slim lads of the 
Bond-street estahlishments, must have felt upon finding their 
offspring in the occupation I have just mentioned, than a story 
relating to Captain Parsons Hoye, of Count}" AYicklow, who 
several years since met with an instance of the kind at Hud- 
son's, in Covent-Garden. 

A nephew of his, an effeminate young fellow, who had re- 
turned from travelling, and who expected to he his heir, acci- 
dentally came into the coffee-room. Neither uncle nor nephew 
knew each other; but old Parsons' disgust at the dandified 
manners, language, and dress of the youth, gave rise to an oc- 
currence which drew from the bluff seaman epithets rather too 
coarse to record. The end of it was, that, when Parsons dis- 
covered the relationship of the stranger, he struck him out of a 
will which he had made, and died very soon after, as if on 
purpose to mortify the macaroni ! 

We will take this opportunity of subjoining an accurate de- 
scription of the person of Captain Parsons Hoye, thereby ena- 
bling our reader to estimate the singularity of his collision with 
the dandy. 

Commodore Trunnion was a civilized man, and a beauty 
(but a fool), compared to ParsOns Hoye. He had a moderate 
hereditary property near WickloAv ; had been a captain in the 
royal navy ; was a bad farm^er, a worse sportsman, and a blus- 
tering justice of peace ; but groat at potation ! and what was 
called, " in the main, a capital fellow." He was nearly as 
boisterous as his adopted element ; his voice was always as if 



60 IRISH DISSIPATION IN HTP. 

on the quarter-deck ; and tlie whistle of an okl boatsAvain, who 
had been decapitated by his side, hung as a memento, by a 
thong of leather, to his waistcoat button-hole. It was fre- 
quently had recourse to, and, whenever he wanted a word, 
supplied the deficiency. 

In form, the captain was squat, broad, and coarse : a large 
purple nose, wuth a broad crimson chin to match, were the only 
features of any consequence in his countenance, except a couple 
of good-enough bloodshot eyes, screened by most exuberant 
grizzle eye-lashes. His powdered w^ig had behind it a queue 
in the form of a handspike, and a couple of roUed-up paste 
curls, like a pair of carronades, adorned its broadsides ; a blue 
coat, with slash cuffs, and plenty of navy-buttons, surmounted 
a scarlet waistcoat — the skirts of Avhich, he sajd, he would 
have of their enormous length, because it assured him that the 
tailor had put all the cloth in it ; a black Barcelona adorned 
his neck ; an old round hat, bordered with gold lace, pitched 
on one side of his head, and turned up also on one side, with 
a huge cockade stuck into a buttonless loop, gave him a swag- 
gering air. He bore a shillelagh, the growth of his own es- 
tate, in a fist which would cover more ground than the best 
shoulder of wether-mutton in a London market.* Yet the cap- 
tain had a look of generosity, good nature, benevolence, and 
hospitality, which his features did their very best to conceal, 
and which none but a good physiognomist could possibly dis- 
cover. 

* I once saw the inconvenience of that species of fist strongly exemplified. 
The late Admiral Cosby, of Stradbally hall, had as large and as brown a 
fist as any admiral in his majesty's service. Happening one day unfortu- 
nately to lay it on the table during dinner, at Colonel Fitzgerald's, Merrion 
square, a Mr. J'^nkins, a half-blind doctor, who chanced to sit next to the 
admiral, cast his eye upon the fist: the imperfection of his vision led him to 
believe it was a French roll of bread, and, without further ceremony, the 
doctor thrust his fork plump into the admiral's fist! The confusion which 
resulted may be easily imagined. 



JOE KELLY HIS FATIIEK. 61 



MY BROTHER'S HUNTING-LODGE. 

Waking the Piper — Curious Scene at my Brother's Hunting-Lodge — Joe Kelley's and Peter 
Alley's Heads fastened to the Walls — Operations practised in extricating Them. 

I MET- with a ludicrous instance of the dissipation of even 

later days, a few months after my marriage. Lady B and 

myself took a tour through some of the southern parts of Ire- 
land, and among other places visited Castle Durrow, near 
which place my brother, Henry French Barrington, had built 
a hunting-cottage, wherein he happened to have given a house- 
warming the previous day. 

The company, as might be expected at such a place and on 
such an occasion, was not the most select ; in fact, they were 
^^ hard-going''' sportsmen. 

Among the rest, Mr. Joseph Kelly, of unfortunate fate, broth- 
er to Mr. Michael Kelly (who by-the-by does not say a word 
about him in his Reminiscences), had been invited, to add to 
the merriment by his pleasantry and voice, and had come down 
from Dublin for the purpose. 

It may not be amiss to say something here of that remarka- 
ble person. I knew him from his early youth. His father 
was a dancing master in Mary street, Dublin ; and I found in 
the newspapers of that period, a number of puffs, in French 
and English, of Mr, O'Kelly's abilities in that way — -one of 
which, a certificate from a French artiste, of Paris, is curious 
enough.* What could put it into his son's head, that he had 
been master of the ceremonies at Dublin castle is rather perplex- 
ing ! He became a wine-merchant latterly, dropped the 0, 

* Mr. O'Kelly is just returned from Paris. Ladies and gentlemen, who 
are pleased to send their commands to No. 30 Mary street, will be most re- 
Bpectfully attended to. 

Je certifie que M. Guillaume O'Kelly est venu a Paris pour prendre de 
moi legons, et qu il est sorti de mes mains en etat de pouvoir enseigner la 
dance avec succes 

Gardel, Maitre d Danser de la Heine, 
Et Maitre des Ballets du Eoy. 
A Paris, le 20erae Aoiit, 1781. 



62 MY brotitek's II untlng -lodge. 

wliicli liad been placed at the beginning of liis name, and was 
a well-conducted and respectable man.* 

Joe was a slender young man, remarkably handsome ; but 
with regard to character, always Avhat in that part of the coun- 
try they emphatically styled *' the devil /" I recollect his 
dancing a hornpipe in a sailor's costume most admirably upon 
the stage. He also sang the songs of Yovmg Meadows, in 
*' Love in a Village," extremely well, as likewise those of Mac- 
heath and other parts ; but he could never give the acting any 
effect. He was, strictly speaking, a bravura singer : there was 
no pathos, nothing touchant in his cadences, but in drinking- 
songs, &c., he was unrivalled. As his brother has not thought 
proper to speak about him, it might be considered out of place 
for me to go into his history, all of which I know, and many 
passages of Avhich might probably be both entertaining and in- 
structive. Some parts of it, however, are already on record, 
and others I hope will never be recorded. The duke of Wel- 
lington knew Joe Kelly extremely, well ; and if he had merited 
advancement, I* dare say he would have received it. The last 
conversation I had with him was on the Boulevard Italien, in 
Paris. I was walking with my son, then belonging to the fifth 
dragoon guards. Kelly came up and spoke to us. I shook 
him by the hand, and he talked away : spoke to my son — no 
answer; he tried him again — no reply. Kelly seemed sur- 
prised, and said, " Don't you know me, Barrington "? why don't 
you speak to me T' — " 'Tis because I do know you that I do 7wt 
speak to you," replied my son. Kelly blushed, but turned it off 
with a laugh. I could not then guess the reason for this cut di- 
rect ; and my son refused to tell me : I have since., however, be- 
come acquainted with it, and think the sarcasm well merited. 
It was indeed the bitterer, from its being the only one I ever 
heard my son utter. Joe Kelly killed his man in a duel, for 
which he was tried and narrowly escaped. According to his own 

* But as he was a Roman catholic, and as no Roman eatliolie could then 
hold any office in the viee-regal establishment of Dublin castle, Mr. M. Kelly 
must have been misinformed on that point as to his father, whom I have 
often seen. Mr, Gofton, a dancing-master of Anne street, Linen hall, and 
uncle to Doctor Barrett, the late extraordinary vice-provost of Trinity col- 
lege, was a friend of Mr. O'Kelly's, and taught me to the day of his deatli,; 
which was sudden. 



WAKING THE PIPEE. 63 

account, indeed, lie killed plenty more men at tlie battle of 
Waterloo and in other actions. He was liimself shot at Paris 
by a commissary with whom he had quarrelled, and the 
humorists remarked thereupon that Joe had died a natural 
death. 

Of this convivial assemblage at my brother's, he was, I sup- 
pose, the very life and soul. The dining-room had not been 
finished when the day of the dinner-party arrived, and the 
lower parts of the walls having only that morning received 
their last coat of plaster, were, of course, totally wet. 

We had intended to surprise my brother ; but had not cal- 
culated on the scene I was to witness. On driving to the 
cottage-door I found it open, while a dozen dogs, of different 
descriptions, showed to receive us not in the most polite man- 
ner. My servant's whip, however, soon sent them about their 
business, and I ventured in the parlor to see what cheer. It 
was about ten in the morning : the room was strewed Avith 
empty bottles — some broken — some interspersed with glasses, 
plates, dishes, knives, spoons, &;c., all in glorious confusion.. 
Here and there were heaps of bones, relics of the former day's 
entertainment, which the dogs, seizing their opportunity, had 
picked. Three or four of the Bacchanalians lay fast asleep 
upon chairs — one or two others on the floor, among whom a 
piper lay on his back, apparently dead, with a table-cloth 
spread over him, and surrounded by four or five candles, burnt 
to the sockets ; his chanter and bags were laid scientifically 
across his body, his mouth was quite open, and his nose made 
ample amends for the silence of his drone. Joe Kelly and 
a Mr. Peter Alley were fast asleep in their chairs, close to the 
wall. 

Had I never viewed such a scene before, it would have 
almost terrified me ; but it was nothing more that the ordinary 
custom which we called waking the pipers when he had got too 
drunk to make any more music. 

I went out, and sent away my carriage and its inmate to 
Castle Durrow, whence we had come, and afterward proceeded 
to seek my brother. No servant was to be seen, man or 
woman. I went to the stables, wherein I found three or four 



64 MY BEOTIIER's nUNTING-LODGE. 

more of the goodly company, avIio had just been able to reach 
their horses, but were seized by Morpheus before they could 
mount them, and so lay in the mangers awaiting a more favor- 
able opportunity. Eeturning hence to the cottage, I found my 
brother, also asleep, on the only bed which it then afforded : he 
had no occasion to put on his clothes, since he had never taken 
them off. 

I next waked Dan Tyron, a wood-ranger of Lorfl Ashbrook, 
who had acted as a maitre d' hotel in making the arrangements, 
and providing a horse-load of game to fill up the banquet. I 
then inspected the parlor, and insisted on breakfast. Dan 
Tyron set to work : an old woman was called in from an 
adjoining cabin, the windows were opened, the room cleared, 
the floor swept, the relics removed, and the fire lighted in the 
kitchen. The piper was taken away senseless, but my brother 
would not suffer either Joe or Alley to be disturbed till break- 
fast was ready. No time was lost ; and, after a very brief 
interval, we had before us abundance of fine eggs, and milk 
fresh from the cow, with brandy, sugar, and nutmeg in plenty; 
a large loaf, fresh butter, a cold round of beef, which had not 
been produced on the previous day, red herrings, and a bowl 
dish of potatoes roasted on the turf ashes ; in addition to which, 
ale, whiskey, and port, made up the refreshments. All being 
duly in order, we at length awakened Joe Kelly, and Peter 
Alley, his neighbor : they had slept soundly, though with no 
other pillow than the wall ; and my brother announced break- 
fast with a view holloa !* 

The twain immediately started, and roared in unison with 
their host tremendously ! it was, however, in a very different 
tone from the view holloa, and perpetuated much longer. 

" Come, boys," says French, giving Joe a pull — " come !" 

"Oh, murder!" says Joe, **I can't!" — "murder! — murder!" 
echoed Peter. French pulled them again, upon which they 
roared the more, still retaining their places. I have in my 
lifetime laughed till I nearly became spasmodic ; but never 
were my risible muscles put to greater tension than upon this 

* The shout of hunters when the game is in view. 



A FIX "rape of the LOCK." 65 

• 

occasion. The wall, as I said before, had only that day 
received a coat of mortar, and of course was quite soft and 
yielding when Joe and Peter thought proper to make it their 
pillow ; it was, nevertheless, setting fast, from the heat and 
lights of an eighteen hours' carousal ; and, in the morning, 
when my brothor awakened his guests, the mortar had com- 
pletely set, and their hair being the thing most calculated to 
amalgamate therewith, the entire of Joe's stock, together with 
his queue, and half his head, was thoroughly and irrecoverably 
bedded in the greedy and now marble cement, so that if deter- 
mined to move, he must have taken the wall along with him, 
for separate it would not. One side of Peter's head was in 
the same state of imprisonment. Nobody was able to assist 
them, and there they both stuck fast. 

A consultation was now held on this pitiful case, which I 
maliciously endeavored to prolong as much as I could, and 
which was, in fact, every now and then interrupted by a roar 
from Peter or Joe, as they made fresh efforts to rise. At 
length, it was proposed by Dan Tyron to send for the stone- 
cutter, and get him to cut them out of the wall with a chisel. 
I was literally unable to speak two sentences for laughing. 
The old woman meanwhile tried to soften the obdurate wall 
with melted butter and new milk — but in vain. I related the 
school story how Hannibal had worked through the Alps with 
hot vinegar and hot irons : this experiment likewise was made, 
but Hannibal's solvent had no better success than the old 
crone's. 

Peter Alley, being of a more passionate nature, grew ulti- 
mately quite outrageous : he roared, gnashed his teeth, and 
,swore vengeance against the mason ; but as he was only held 
by one side, a thought at last struck him : he asked for two 
knives, which being brought, he whetted one against the other, 
and introducing the blades close to his skull, sawed away at 
cross corners till he was liberated, with the loss only of half 
his hair and a piece of his scalp, which he had sliced off in 
zeal and haste for his liberty. I never saw a fellow so extrav- 
agantly happy ! Fur was scraped from the crown of a hat, to 
stop the bleeding ; his head was duly tied up with the old 



66 MY brother's hunting-lodge. 

'WOinsiYi's prasJceen ;* and lie was soon in a state of bodily con- 
valescence. Our solicitude was now required solely for Joe, 
whose head was too deeply buried to be exhumated with so 
much facility. At this moment, Bob Casey, of Ballynakill, a 
very celebrated wig-maker, just dropj)ed in, to see what he 
could pick up honestly in the way of his profession, or steal in 
the way of anything else ; and he immediately undertook to get 
Mr. Kelly out of the mortar by a very expert but tedious pro- 
cess, namely clipping with his scissors, and then rooting out 
with an oyster-knife. He thus finally succeeded, in less than 
an hour, in setting Joe once more at liberty, at the price of his 
queue, which was totally lost, and of the exposure of his raw 
and bleeding occiput. The operation was, indeed, of a mon- 
grel description — somewhat between a complete tonsure and 
an imperfect scalping, to both of which denominations it cer- 
tainly presented claims. However, it is an ill wind that blows 
nobody good ! Bob Casey got the making of a skull-piece for 
Joe, and my brother French had the pleasure of paying for it, 
as gentlemen in those days honored any order given by a 
guest to the family shopkeeper or. artisan. 

I ate a hearty breakfast, returned to Durrow, and having 
rejoined my companion, we pursued our journey to Waterford, 
amusing ourselves the greater part of the way with the circum- 
stances just related, which, however, I do not record merely 
as an abstract anecdote, but, as I observed in starting, to show 
the manners and habits of Irish country society and sportsmen, 
even so recently as thirty years ago; and to illustrate the 
changes of those habits and manners, and the advances toward 
civilization, which, coupled with the extraordinary want of 
corresponding prosperity, present phenomena I am desirous of 
impressing upon my reader's mind, throughout the whole of 
this miscellaneous collection of original anecdotes and obser- 
vations. 

* A coarse dhty apron, worn by worliing-women in a kitchen, in the 
country parts of Ireland. 



IKISH PATRIOTISM. 67 



CHOICE OF PEOFESSION. 

The Army-^Irish Volunteers Described — Their Military Ardor — The Author Inoculated 
therewith — He grows Cooler — The Church — The Faculty — The Law — Objections to each 
— Colonel Harrington removec his Establishment to the Irish Capital — A Country Gen- 
tleman taking up a City Residence. 

My veering opinion as to a choice of profession was nearly 
decided by that military ardor which seized all Ireland, 
when the whole country had entered into resolutions to free 
itself for ever from English domination. The entire kingdom 
took up arms — regiments were formed in every quarter — the 
highest, the lowest, and the middle orders, all entered the 
ranks of freedom, and every corporation, whether civil or mili- 
tary, pledged life and fortune to attain and establish Irish 
independence. 

My father had raised and commanded two corps — a dragoon 
regiment called the Cullenagh rangers, and the Ballyroan 
light-infantry. My elder brother commanded the Kilkenny 
horse, and the Durry light-dragoons. The general enthu- 
siasm caught me, and before I well knew what I was about, 
found myself a military martinet and a red-hot patriot. Hav- 
ing been a university man, I was also considered to be of 
course a writer, and was accordingly called on to draw up 
resolutions for volunteer regiments all over the county. This 
was the first tirade I ever attempted on a political subject, and 
it being quite short enough and warm enough to be compre- 
hended by all the parties, it was unanimously adopted — every 
man swearing, as he kissed the blade of his sword, that he 
would adhere to these resolutions to the last drop of his blood, 
which he would by no means spare, till we had finally achieved 
the independence of our country. We were very sincere, and 
really I think, determined to perish, if necessary, in the cause 
— at least, I am sure, I was so. 

The national point Avas gained, but not without much diffi- 
culty and danger. The Irish parliament had refused to grant 
supplies to the crown for more than six months. The people 



68 CHOICE OF PROFESSION. 

tad entered into resolutions to prevent the importation of any 
Britisli merchandise or manufactures. The entire kingdom 
had disavowed all English authority or jurisdiction, external 
or internal ; the judges and magistrates had declined to act 
under British statutes : the flame had spread rapidly, and had 
become irresistible. 

The British government saw that either temporizing or an 
appeal to force would occasion the final loss of Ireland. One 
hundred and fifty thousand independent soldiers, well armed, 
well clothed, and well disciplined, were not to be coped with ; 
and England yielded. Thus the volunteers kept their oaths : 
they redeemed their pledge, and did not lay down their arms 
until the independence of Ireland had been pronounced from 
the throne, and the distinctness of the Irish nation promulgated 
in the government gazette of London. 

Having carried our point with the English, and having pro- 
posed to prove our independence by going to war with Portugal 
about our linens, we completely set up for ourselves, except 
that Ireland was bound constitutionally and irrevocably never 
to have any king but the king of Great Britain. 

We were now, in fact, regularly in a fighting mood : and being 
quite in good-humor with England, we determined to fight the 
French, who had threatened to invade us ; and I recollect a vol- 
unteer belonging to one of my father's corps, a schoolmaster 
of the name of Beal, proposing a resolution to the Ballyroan 
infantry, which purported that " they would never stop fight- 
ing the French till they had flogged every man of them into 
mincemeat !" This magnanimous resolution was adopted with 
cheers, and was, as usual, sworn to, each hero kissing the muz- 
zle of his musket. 

I am not going any further into a history of those times, to 
which I have alluded in order to mention what for the moment 
excited my warlike ardor, and fixed my determination, although 
but temporarily, to adopt the military profession. 

On communicating this decision to my father, he procured 
me, from a friend and neighbor, General Hunt Walsh, a com- 
mission in that officer's own regiment, the thirtieth. The style 
of the thing pleased me well; but,upon being informed that I 



THE CHUJRCH THE FACULTY. ■ 69 

should immediately join tlie regiment in America, my heroic 
tendencies received a serious check. I had not contemplated 
transatlantic emigration ; and, feeling that I could get my head 
hroken just as well in my own country, I, after a few days' 
mature consideration, perceived my military ardor grow cooler 
and cooler every hour — until, at length, it was obviously de- 
funct. I therefore wrote to the general a most thankful letter, 
but at the same time " begging the favor of him to present my 
commission in his regiment to some hardier soldier, who could 
serve his majesty with more vigor ; as I, having been brought 
up by my grandmother, felt as yet too tender to be any way 
effective on foreign service — though I had no objection to fight 
as much as possible in Ireland, if necessary." The general 
accepted my resignation, and presented my commission to a 
young friend of his, whose brains were blown out in the very 
first engagement. 

Having thus rejected the military, I next turned my thoughts 
to that very opposite profession — the clerical. But though 
preaching was certainly a much safer and more agreeable em- 
ployment than bush-fighting, yet a curacy and a wooden leg 
being pretty much on a parallel in point of remuneration, and 
as I had the strongest objection to be half-starved in the ser- 
vice of either the king or the altar, I also declined the cassock, 
assuring my father that " I felt I was not steady enough to 
make an ' exemplary parson ;' and as any other kind of parson 
generally did more harm than good in * country, I could not, 
in my conscience, take charge of the morals of a flock of men, 
women, and children, when I should have quite enough to do 
to manage my own ; and I should therefore leave the church 
to some more orthodoxical graduate." 

Medicine, therefore, was the next in the list of professions to 
which I had, abstractly, some liking. I had attended several 
courses of anatomical lectures at Dublin, and, although with 
some repugnant feelings, I had studied that most sublime of all 
sciences, human organization, by a persevering attention to 
the celebrated wax-works of that university. But my horror 
and disgust of animal putridity in all its branches was so great, 
inclusive even of stinking venison (which most people admire), 



70 CHOICE OF PFvOFESSION. 

that all surgical practice by me was necessarily out of the 
question ; and medicine without surgery presenting no better 
chance than a curacy, it shared an equally bad fate with the 
sword and the pulpit. 

Of the liberal and learned professions, there now remained 
but one, namely, the law. . Now as to this, I was told by sev- 
eral old practitioners, who had retired into the country (from 
having no business to do in town), that if I was even as wise 
as Alfred, or as learned as Lycurgus, nobody would give me 
sixpence for all my law (if I had a hundred weight of it) until 
I had spent at least ten years in watching the manufacture. 
However, they consoled me by saying that, if I could put up 
with light eating and water-drinking during that period, I 
might then have a very reasonable chance qf getting some 
briefs, particularly after having a gang of attorneys to dine 
with me. Here I was damped again ! — and though I should 
have broken my heart if condemned to remain much longer a 
walking gentleman, I determined to wait a while, and see if 
Nature would open my propensities a little wider, and give 
me some more decisive indication of what she thought me fit- 
test for. 

While in this comfortless state of indecision, my father like 
other country-gentlemen, to gratify his lady under the shape 
of educating his children, gave his consent to be launched into 
the new scenes and pleasures of a city residence. He accord- 
ingly purchased an excellent house in Clare street, Merrion 
square ; left a steward in the country to mmnanage his con- 
cerns there ; made up new wardrobes for the servants ; got a 
fierce three-cocked hat for himself; and removed his establish- 
ment (the hounds excepted) to the metropolis of Ireland. 

Here my good and well-bred mother (for such she was) had 
her Galway pride revived and gratified ; the green coach de 
cerhnonie was regilt and regarnished, and four black horses, 
with two postillions and a sixteen-stone footman, completed 
her equipage. 

I had my bit of blood in the stable; my elder brother, who 
had been in the " 1st horse," had plenty of them : my father 
had his old hunter "brown Jack;" and we set out at what is 



CAPTAIN o'rLAnEJiTY HIS WIFE. 71 

commonly called a great rate — but -wliicli great rates are gen- 
erally, like a fox-cliase, more hot than durable. However the 
thing went on well enough ; and during our city residence 
many pleasurable and many whimsical incidents occurred to 
me and other individuals of my family; one of which was most 
interesting to myself, and will form a leading feature in my 
subsequent Memoirs. 

Before adverting to this, however, I will mention a lament- 
able event which occurred during our stay in Clare street, to a 
neighbor of ours. Captain O'Flaherty, brother to Sir John, 
whom I shall hereafter notice. The captain resided nearly 
facing us, and though the event I speak of, and the very ex- 
traordinary incident w^hich succeeded it, are clearly digressions, 
yet the whole story is so interesting, that I will, without farther 
apology, introduce it. 



MURDER OF CAPTAIN OTLAHEETY. 

Murder of Captain O'Flaherty by Mr. Lanegan, his Son's Tutor, and Mrs. O'Flaherty — The 
Latter, after betraying her Accomplice, escapes beyond Seas — ^Trial of Lanegan — He 
is hanged at Dublin^Terrific Appearance of his Supposed Ghost to his Pupil, David 
Lander, and the Author, at the Temple, in London — Lnnder nearly dies of Fright — Lan- 
"egan's Extraordinary Escape — Not even suspected in Ireland — He gets off to Jh'ance, 
and enters the Monastery of La Trappe — A Church- Yard Anecdote — My own Super- 
stition nearly fatal to Me. 

Captain O'Flaherty, a most respectable gentleman, resi- 
ded in Clare street, Dublin, exactly opposite my father's house. 
He had employed a person of the name of Lanegan, as tutor 
to the late John Burke O'Flaherty, and his other sons. But 
, after some little time Lanegan became more attentive to Mrs. 
O'Flaherty, the mother, than to her boys. 

This woman had certainly no charms of either appearance 
or address, which might be thought calculated to captivate 
any one ; and there was a something indescribably repulsive 
in her general manners, in consequence whereof all acquaint- 
ance between her and our family soon terminated. She was 
not satisfied with the occasional society of Mr. Lanegan, while 
he continued in the house as tutor, but actually proceeded to 



72 MUKDER OF CAPTAIN o'fLAHEKTY. 

form a criminal intercourse with him ; and, in order to free 
herself from all restraint, meditated the very blackest of human 
crimes, which she determined to perpetrate by giving the un- 
fortunate captain a rice pudding for his dinner, by virtue 
whereof she might at any rate be saved the trouble of ever 
making another for him. 

Mr. Lanegan was with this view sent by her to several apoth- 
ecaries' shops ; at each of which, to avoid suspicion, he asked 
for a very little stuff to kill the rats ; and thus, by small portions, 
they ultimately procured a sufficient quantity to kill not only 
the rats, but the husband into the bargain. 

The murderous scheme was carried into execution by Mrs. 
O'Flaherty herself, and the captain was found dead in his bed ! 
Some misgivings, however, were generated from the appear- 
ance of the body, which swelled and exhibited bl^ck spots : 
and these, with other unequivocal signs, conspired to prove 
that the rats (for they were actually dealt with) had not been 
the only sufferers. The coroner's inquest, indeed, soon de- 
cided the matter, by a verdict of " Poisoned hy Arsenic^ 

Mrs. O'Flaherty and Mr. Lanegan began now to suspect 
that they were in rather a ticklish situation, and determined 
to take a private journey into the country until they should 
discover how things were likely to go. The adulterous wife, 
full of crime and terror, conceived a suspicion that Lanegan, 
who had only purchased the poison by her directions, and had 
not administered it (except to the rats) might turn king's evi- 
dence, get the reward, and save himself by convicting her. 
Such a catastrophe she therefore determined if possible to pre- 
vent. 

On their journey she told him that, upon full consideration 
she conceived there could be no possibility of bringing conclu- 
sive evidence against them, inasmuch as it would appear most 
probable that the captain had, by accident, taken the poison 
himself — and that she was determined to surrender and take 
her trial as soon as possible, recommending Mr. Lanegan to do 
the same. In pursuance of this decision, as they passed near 
the town of Gowran, County Kilkenny, she said, "There is 
the gate of a magistrate : do you go up first, put on a bold face. 



TKIAL AND EXECUTION OF LANEGAN. 73 

assure Inm of your entire innocence, and say that as Infamous 
and false reports have been spread, both of yourself and me, 
you came expressly to surrender and take your trial; — and 
that you could not live in society under such vile imputations ! 
Say, also, that you hear Mrs. O'Flaherty intends likewise to 
surrender herself in the evening, and request that he will be at 
home to receive her." 

Lanegan suspecting no fraud, followed these instructions lit- 
erally ; — he was secured, though without roughness, and prep- 
arations were made for his being taken to Dublin next day 
in custody. The magistrate waited for Mrs. Flaherty, but 
she did not appear :, he sent down to his gatehouse to know 
if any lady had passed by : the porter informed him that a 
lady and gentleman had been near the gate in a carriage, 
in the morning, and that the gentleman got out and went 
up the avenue to the house, after which the lady had driven 
away. 

It now appearing that they had been actually together, and 
that Lanegan had been telling falshoods respecting his com- 
panion, strong suspicions arose in the mind of the magistrate. 
His prisoner was confined more closely, sent under a strong 
guard to Dublin, indicted for murder, and tried at the ensuing 
assizes. 

Positive evidence Avas given of Lanegan's criminal connec- 
tion with Mrs. O'Flaherty, coupled with the strongest circum- 
stantial proof against him. He had not the courage boldly to 
deny the fact, and being found guilty was sentenced to be 
hanged and quartered ; the former part of which sentence 
having been carried into execution, and his body cut on each 
limb, it was delivered up to his mother for burial. Mrs. O'Fla- 
herty escaped beyond sea, and has, I believe, never since been 
heard of in the country. 

Such is the history which forms the prelude to an occur- 
rence in which I was a party, several months after, and which 
may be regarded as a curious illustration of stories of supposed 
ghosts. 

A templar and a friend of mine, Mr. David Lander, a soft, 
fat, good-humored, superstitious young fellow, was sitting in 

4 



74 MrKDEK OF CAPTAIN o'fLAIIEETY. 

his lodgings, Devereux court, London, one evening at tTviliglit. 
I was with him, and we were agreeably employed in eating- 
strawberries and drinking Madeira. While thus chatting away 
in cheerful mood, and laughing loudly at some remark m.ade 
by one of us, my back being toward the door, I perceived my 
friend's color suddenly change — his eyes seemed fixed and 
ready to start out of his head — his lips quivered convulsively 
— his teeth chattered — large drops of perspiration flowed down 
his forehead — and his hair stood nearly erect. 

As I saw nothing calculated to excite these emotions, I nat- 
urally conceived my friend was seized with a fit, and rose to 
assist him. He did not regard my movements in the least, 
but, seizing a knife which lay on the table, with the gait of a 
palsied man, retreated backward — his eyes still fixed — to the 
distant part of the room, where he stood shivering, and attempt- 
ing to pray ; but not at the moment recollecting any prayer, 
he began to repeat his catechism, thinking it the next best 
thing he could do: as — "What is your name? David Lan- 
der ! Who gave you that name 1 My godfathers and god- 
mothers in baptism !" &c., &c. 

I instantly concluded the man was mad; and turning about 
to go for some assistance, I was myself not a little startled at 
sight of a tall, rough-looking personage, many days unshaved, 
in a very shabby black dress, and altogether of the most un- 
couth appearance. 

" Don't be frightened, Mr. Lander," said the figure ; " sure 
'tis me that's here." 

When Davy Lander heard the voice, he fell on his knees, 
and subsequently flat upon his face, in which position he lay 
motionless. 

The spectre (as I now began to imagine it) stalked toward 
the door, and I was in hopes he intended to make his exit 
thereby ; instead of which, hoAvever, having deliberately shut 
and bolted it, he sat himself down in the chair which I had 
previously occupied, with a countenance nearly as full of hor- 
ror as that of Davy Lander himself. 

I was now totally bewildered ; and, scarce knowing what to 
do, was about to throw a jug of water over my friend, to revive 



lanegan's mysterious keappeakance. T5 

him if possible, wlien the stranger, in a harsh, croaking voice, 
cried- — 

" For the love of God, give me some of that — for I am per- 
ishing !" 

I accordingly did so, and he took the jug and drank immod- 
erately. 

My friend Davy now ventured to look up a little, and per- 
ceiving that I was becoming so familiar with the goblin, his 
courage somewhat revived, but still his speech was difficult. 
He stammered, and gazed at the figure for some time, but at 
length made up his mind that it was tangible and mortal. 
The effect of this decision on the face of Davy was as ludi- 
crous as the fright had been. He seemed quite ashamed of 
his former terror, and affected to be stout as a lion! — though 
it was visible that he was not yet at his ease. He now roared 
out in the broad, cursing, Kerry dialect : " Why, then, blood 
and thunder ! is that you, Lanegan ?" 

"Ah, sir, speak easy !" said the wretched being. 

" How the devil," resumed Davy, " did you get your four 
quarters stitched together again, after the hangman cut them 
off of you at Stephen's Green ]" 

" Ah, gentlemen !" exclaimed the poor culprit, " speak low ! 
Have mercy on me. Master Davy — you know it was I taught 
you your Latin. I'm starving to death !" 

" You shall not die in that way, you villanous schoolmaster !" 
said Davy, pushing toward him a loaf of bread and a bottle of 
wine that stood on the table. 

The miserable creature having ate the bread with avidity, 
and drunk two or three glasses of wine, the lamp of life once 
more seemed to brighten up. After a pause, he communicated 
every circumstance relating to his sudden appearance before 
us. He confessed having bought the arsenic at the desire of 
Mrs. O'Flaherty, and that he was aware of the application of 
it, but solemnly protested that it was she who had seduced 
him. He then proceeded to inform us that, after having been 
duly hanged, the sheriff had delivered his body to his mother, 
but not until the executioner had given a cut on each limb, to 
save the law — which cuts bled profusely, and were probably 



76 ' MUKDER OF CAPTAIN o'fLAHEKTT. 

the means of preserving liis life. His mother conceived that 
the vital spark was not extinct, and therefore had put him into 
bed, dressed his wounded limbs, and rubbed his neck with hot 
vinegar. Having steadily pursued this process, and accompa- 
nied it by pouring warm brandy-and-water down his throat, in 
the course of an hour he was (][uite sensible, but experienced 
horrid pains for several weeks before his final recovery. His 
mother filled the coffin he was brought home in with bricks, 
and got some men to bury it the same night in Kilmainham 
burial-ground, as if ashamed to inter him in open day. For a 
long time he was unable to depart, being every moment in 
dread of discovery. At length, however, he got off by night 
in a smuggling-boat, which landed him on the isle of Man ; 
and thence he contrived to reach London, bearing a letter 
from a priest at Kerry to another priest who had lived in the 
borough, the purport of which was to get him admitted into a 
monastery in France. But he found the Southwark priest was 
dead ; and, though he possessed some money, he was afraid 
even to buy food, for fear of detection ! — but recollecting that 
Mr. Lander, his old scholar, lived somewhere in the Temple, he 
got directed by a porter to the lodging. 

My friend Davy, though he did not half like it, suffered this 
poor devil to sit in the chamber till the following evening. He 
then procured him a place in the night-coach to Rye, whence 
he got to St. Vallery, and was received (as I afterward learned 
from a very grateful letter which he sent to Lander) into the 
monastery of La Trappe, near Abbeville, where he lived in 
strict seclusion, and died some years since. 

This incident is not related as a mere isolated anecdote, un- 
connected with any serious general considerations ; but rather 
with a view to show how many deceptions a man's imagination 
may hastily subject him to, ^d to impress the consideration 
that nothing should be regarded as supernatural which can by 
possibility be the result of human interference. 

In the present case, if Lanegan had withdrawn before Lau- 
der had arisen and spoken to him, no reasoning upon earth 
could have ever convinced the templar of the materiality of 
the vision. As Lanegan's restoration to life after execution 



A CHUECH-YAED ANECDOTE. YT 

had not at tliat time been spoken of, nor even suspected, Lan- 
der would have willingly deposed, upon the Holy Evangelists, 
that he had seen the actual ghost of the schoolmaster who had 
been hanged and quartered in Dublin a considerable time be- 
fore ; his identification of the man's person being rendered un- 
equivocal from the circumstance of his having been formerly 
Lanegan's pupil. And I must confess that I 'should myself 
have seen no reason to doubt Lander's assertions had the man 
withdrawn from the chamber before he spoke to me — to do 
which, under the circumstances, it was by no means improbable 
fear might have induced him. 

Thus one of the " best-authenticated ghost-stories ever re- 
lated" has been lost to the history of supernatural occurrences. 
The circumstance, however, did not cure Davy Lander in the 
least of his dread of apparitions, which was excessive. 

Nor have I much right to reproach my friend's weakness in 
this particular. I have, on the other hand, throughout my 
writings admitted — nay, I fear, occasionally boasted — that I 
was myself superstitious. The species of reading I adopted 
and ardently pursued from my infancy upward may, I admit, 
have impressed my mind indelibly ; and the consciousness of 
this fact should have served to render me rather skeptical than 
credulous upon any subject that bore a mysterious character. 

My relations, while I was a boy, took it into their heads that 
I was a decided coward in this way, which, though I in round 
terms denied, I freely admitted at the same time my coyness 
with regard to making any unnecessary experiments or making 
any superstitious invocations, particularly on Allhallow-eve, or 
other mysterious days, whereupon a sort of bastard witchcraft 
is always practised in Ireland. 

Hence I was universally ridiculed on those anniversaries for 
my timidity ; and one Allhallow-eve, my father proposed to 
■^ave a prayer-book, with a five-pound bank-note in it, left on 
a certain tombstone in an old catholic burial-ground, quite 
apart from any road, and covered with trees. It was two or 
three fields' distance from the dwelling-house ; and the propo- 
sal was, that if I would go there at twelve o'clock at night, and 
bring back the book and a dead man's bone, many of which 



78 MIJEDEE OF CAPTAIN o'fLAHEETY. 

latter were scattered about tlie cemetery, the note should be 
taine ; and, as an additional encouragement, I was never after 
to be charged with cowardice. My pride took fire, and I de- 
termined, even though I might burst a blood-vessel through 
agitation, or break my neck in running home again, I would 
perform the feat, and put an end to the imputation. 

The matter therefore was fully arranged. The night proved 
very dark ; the path was intricate, but I was accustomed to it. 
There were two or three stiles to be crossed ; and the Irish 
always conceive that if a ghost is anywhere in the neighbor- 
hood, he invariably chooses a stile at which to waylay the pas- 
sengers. 

However, at the appointed hour I set out. I dare say most 
ladies and gentlemen who may read this know what 2)alpita' 
tion of the heart means ; if so, let them be so good as to fancy 
an excess of that feeling, and they may then form some idea 
of the sensations with which I first touched the cold grave- 
stones of the dead, who, if they had possessed any spirit, would 
have arisen en masse, to defend their bones from being made 
the subject of ridiculous experiment. 

Having groped for some time in the dark, I found the book, 
but my hand refused to lift it, and I sat down, panting and 
starting at every rustle of the foliage. Through the gloom 
wherewith the trunks and branches of the trees were invested, 
my excited imagination conjured up figures aud shapes which 
I expected, at every glance, would open into skeletons or 
shrouded spectres ! . I would, at that moment, have given the? 
world to be at home again ! — but I really could not stir: my 
breath had got too short, and my eyesight too confused, for 
motion. 

By degrees these sensations subsided. I obtained a little 
confidence ; the moving of a*%ranch no longer started me, and 
I should have got on well enough had not an unlucky goat, 
which came roaming near the place, though with a different 
object, thrown me into a complete relapse. At the conclusion 
of about half an hour, however, which appeared to me at least 
five-and-twenty years, I secured tbe book snugly in my pocket, 
together with a dead man's thigh-bone, which I tied up in a 



UNWISE BOASTING A PRACTICAL JOKE. T9 

cloth brought with me for the purpose ; and, fastening it round 
my waist, lest it should drop during my flight, I made a very 
rapid exit from this scene of perilous acbeivement. 

Having reached the house in triumph, and taken a large 
tumbler of wine, I proceeded to exhibit my book, put the bank- 
note in my pocket, and, with an affectation of unconcern, untied 
my cloth and flung my huge bone upon the supper-table. I 
had my full revenge ! The wom.en, who had been amusing 
themselves by telling each other's fortunes, were cruelly 
shocked : they all, una voce, set up a loud shriek, and while 
some were half-swooning, others ran headlong out of the room. 
My courage now grew rampant : I said, if they pleased, they 
might leave the bone on the top of my bed till morning, and 
that would sufficiently show who was most in dread of dead 
people ! 

Confidence was at length restored on all sides. I was half- 
cured of my superstitious fears, and the family universally 
admitted that I certainly should make a brave general if I 
went into the army. We made merry till a late hour, when I 
retired joyously to bed, and sleep very soon began to make 
still further amends for my terrors. 

While dreaming away most agreeably, I was suddenly 
aroused by a rustling noise for which I could not account. I 
sat up, and upon listening, found it to proceed from the top of 
my bed, whereon something was in rapid motion. The dead 
man's thigh-bone immediately started into my recollection, 
and horrible ideas flashed across my mind. A profuse perspi- 
ration burst out at once on my forehead, my hair rose, the 
cramp seized both my legs, and just gathering povrer to call 
out, " Murder, murder ! — help, help !" buried my head under 
the clothes. In this situation I could neither hear nor see, 
and was besides almost suffocated. After a while, I began to 
think I might have been dreaming, and with that idea, thrust- 
ing my head fearfully out, the bone (for that it certainly was) 
sprang with a tremendous crash from the bed down beside me 
upon the floor, where it exhibited as many signs of life as 
when its owner was in existence. Upon viewing this, my spirits 
sank again, I shook like a man in an ague, gave some inartic- 



80 ADOPTION OF THE LAW. 

ulate screams, and at length dropped back, nearly senseless, 
upon the pillow. 

How long I lay tlins I know not. I only remember that the 
bone still continued its movements, and, now-and-then striking 
a chair or table, warned me of my probable fate from its justly- 
enraged proprietor, who, I was apprehensive, would soon ap- 
pear to demand his undoubted property. Had the scene con- 
tinued long, I actually believe I should scarce have survived 
it ; but, at last, paradise seemed all on the sudden to be re- 
gained, though in no very orthodox way. A loud laugh at 
the door clearly announced that I had been well played off 
upon by the ladies for my abrupt display of a dead man's bone 
on a supper-table. The Avhole of the young folks entered my 
room in a body, with candles ; and after having beefn reassured, 
and nourished by a tumbler of buttered white wine, I obtained 
by degrees knowledge of the trick which had occasioned a 
laugh so loud, so long, and so mortifying to my self-conceit. 

The device was simple enough : a couple of cords had been 
tied to the bone, and drawn under the door, which was at the 
bed's foot ; and by pulling these alternately, the conspirators 
kept the bone in motion, until their good-humored joke had 
well nigh resulted in the loss of their kinsman's reason. 



ADOPTION OF THE LAW. 

Marriage of my Eldest Brother — The Bride's- Maid, Miss D. W.— Female Attractions not 
dependent on Personal Beauty — Mutual Attachment — Illustration of the French Phrase 
*• Je 7?e sais quoV — Betrothal of the Author, and his Departure for London, to study 
for the Bar. 

My father still conceived that the military profession was 
best suited to my ardent and volatile spirit. I was myself, 
however, of a different opinion ; and fortune shortly fixed my 
determination. An incident occurred, which, uniting passion, 
judgment, and ambition, led me to decide that the bar was the 
only road to my happiness or celebrity ; and accordingly I 



FEMALE BEAUTY EXPRESSION. 81 

finally ^nd irrevocably resolved that tlie law should he the 
future occupation of my life and studies. 

The recollection of the incident to which I have alluded, 
excites, even at this moment, all the sensibility and regret 
which can survive a grand climacteric, and four-and-forty 
years of vicissitude. I shall not dilate upon it extensively ; 
and, in truth, were it not that these personal fragments would 
be otherwise still more incomplete, I should remain altogehter 
silent on a subject which revives in my mind so many painful 
reflections.' 

My elder brother married the only daughter of Mr. Edwards, 
of Old Court, County Wicklow. The individuals of both 
families attended that marriage, which was indeed a public 
one. The bride's-maid of Miss Edwards was the then admired 
Miss D. W. This lady was about my own age : her father 
had been a senior fellow of Dublin university, and had retired 
on large church preferments. Her uncle, with whom she was 
at that time residing, was a very eminent barrister in the Irish 
capital. She had but one sister, and I was soon brought to 
think she had no equal whatever. 

Those who read this will, perhaps, anticipate a story of a 
volatile lad struck, in the midst of an inspiring ceremony, by 
the beauty of a lively and engaging female, and surrendering 
without resistance his boyish heart to the wild impulse of the 
moment. This supposition is, I admit, a natural one ; but it is 
unfounded. Neither beauty, nor giddy passion, nor the glare 
of studied attractions, ever enveloped me in their labyrinths. 
Nobody admired female loveliness more than myself; but 
beauty in the abstract never excited within me that delirium 
which has so impartially made fools of kings and beggars — 
of heroes and cowards ; and to Avhich the wisest professors of 
law, physic, and divinity have from time immemorial surren- 
dered their liberty, and their reason. 

Regularity of feature is very distinct from expression of 
countenance, which I never yet saw mere symmetry success- 
fully rival. I thank Heaven, that I never was either the 
captive or the victim of "perfect beauty;" in fact, I never 
loved any handsome woman save one who still lives, and I 
• 4* 



82 ADOPTION OF THE LAW. 

hope will do so long : tliose whom I admired most (when I was 
of an age to admire any), had no great reason to be grateful 
for the munificence of creating Nature. 

Were I to describe the person of D. W., I should say that 
she had no beauty ; but, on the contrary, seemed rather to 
have been selected as a foil to set off the almost transparent 
delicacy of the bride whom she attended. Her figure was 
graceful, it is true ; but, generally speaking, I incline to think 
that few ladies would have envied her perfections. Her dark 
and rather deep-sunk, yet penetrating and animated eye, could 
never have reconciled their looking-glasses to the sombre and 
swarthy complexion which surrounded it ; nor the carmine of 
her pouting lip to the disproportioned extent of feature which 
it tinted. In fine, as I began, so will I conclude my personal 
description ; she had no beauty. But she seems this moment 
before me as in a vision. I see her countenance, busied in 
unceasing converse with her heart ; now illuminated by bril- 
liant wit, now softened down by sense and sensibility — the 
wild spirit of the former changing like magic into the steadier 
movements of the latter ; the serious glance silently command- 
ing restraint and caution, while the counteracting smile even 
at the same moment set caution at defiance. But upon this 
subject I shall desist, and only remark farther, that before I 
was aware of the commencement of its passion, my whole heart 
was hers ! 

D. W. was at that time the fashion in society ; many ad- 
mired, but I know of none who loved her save myself, and it 
must have been through some attractive congeniality of mind 
that our attachment became mutual. 

It will doubtless appear unaccountable to many, whence the 
spell arose by virtue of which I was thus bound to a female, 
from whom every personal attribute seems to have been with- 
held by nature. But I am unable to solve the enigma. I once 
ventured myself to ask D. W. if she could tell me why I loved 
her? She answered by returning the question; and hence, 
neither of us being able to give an explicit reason, we mutually 
agreed that the query was unanswerable. 

There are four short words in the French language which 



"jE NE SATS QUOI. 83 

liave a power of expressing what in Eiiglisli is inexplicable -7- 
^' Je ne sais quoi'^ — and to these, in my dilemma, I resorted. 
I do not wish the phrase to be understood in a sentimental vein; 
or, in the set terms of young ladies, as "a nice expression!" 
In my mind it is an ajnatory idiom ; and, in those few words, 
conveys more meaning than could a hundred pages. 

I have said that the phrase is inexplicable ; but, in like 
manner, as we are taught to aim at perfection while we know 
it to be unattainable, so will I endeavor to characterize the 
^' Je ne sais q^uoV as meaning a species of indefinable grace 
which gives despotic power to a female. When we praise in 
detail the abstract beauty or merits of a woman, each of them 
may form matter for argument, or subject for the exercise of 
various tastes; but of the " Je ue sais quoV there is no specifi- 
cation, and upon it there can be no reasoning. It is that 
fascinating enigma which expresses all without expressing 
anything ; that mysterious source of attraction which Ave can 
neitlier discover nor account for ; and which nor beauty, nor 
wit, nor education," nor anything, in short, but oiature, ever can 
create. 

D. W. Avas the fashion ; but she depended solely, as to for- 
tune, on her father and her uncle. I Avas the third son of a 
largely estated, but not prudent family, and was entitled to a 
younger child's portion in addition to some exclusive property; 
but I had passed twenty-one, and had not eA^en fixed on a 
profession — therefore, the only probable result of our attach- 
ment seemed to be misery and disappointment. NotA^dtll- 
standing, Avhen in the same neighborhood Av-^e met — Avhen 
separate Ave corresponded ; but her good sense at length per- 
ceived that some end must be put to this state of clandestine 
intercourse, from Avhich, although equally condemning it, we 
had not been able to abstain. Her father died, and she be- 
came entitled to a third of his estate and eff'ects ; but this 
accession was insufficient to justify the accomplishment of our 
union. I saw, and with a half-broken heart, acquiesced in her 
vieAV of its impossibility, until I should haA^e acquired some 
productiA^e profession. She suggested that there v/as no other 
course but the bar, Avhich might conciliate her uncle. The 



84 A DUBLIN BOARDING-HOUSE. 

liint was sufficient, and we tlien agreed to liave a ceremony of 
betrothal performed, and to separate tlie next moment, never 
to meet again until fortune, if ever so disposed, should smile 
upon us. 

The ceremony was accordingly performed by a Mr. Tay, 
and immediately afterward I went on board a packet for 
England, determined, if it were possible, to succeed in a pro- 
fession which held out a reward so essential to my happiness. 

I did succeed at the bar : but alas ! she for whose sake my 
toil was pleasure had ceased to exist. I never saw her more ! 
Her only sister still lives in Merrion square, Dublin, and in 
her has centred all the property of both the father and 
uncle. She is the wife of one of my warmest friends, a king's 
counsel. 

I hasten to quit a subject to me so distressing. Some very 
peculiar circumstances attended, as I learned, the death of that 
most excellent of women : but a recital of these would only 
increase the impression which I fear I have already given 
grounds for, that I am deeply superstitious. However, I 
have not concealed so important an incident of my life hitherto 
not published, and I have done. 



A DUBLIN BOAEDING-HOUSE. 

Sketches of the Compnny and iTimates — Lord Mountmorris — Lieut. Gam Johnson, R. N — 
Sir John and Lady O'FIaherty — Mrs. Wheel;>r — Lady and Miss Barry — Memoir and 
Character of Miss Barry, afterward M'-g. Baldwin — Ruinous effects of a Dramatic Educa- 
tion Exemplified — Lord Mountmorris' Duel with the Honorable Francis Hely Hutchinson 
at Donnybrook — His Lordship Wounded — Marquis of Ely, his Second. 

On my return to Dublin from London, before I could suit 
myself with a residence to my satisfaction, I lodged at the 
house of Mr. Kyle, in Frederick street, uncle to the present 
provost of Dublin university. Mrs. Kyle was a remarkably 
plain woman, of the most curious figure, being round as a ball; 
but she was as good as she was ordinary. This worthy crea- 
ture, who was a gentlewoman by birth, had married Kyle, 



LOKD MOUXTMOEKIS LIECT. GAM JOHNSOX. 85 

who, tliougli 01 good family, had heen a trooper. She had 
lived many years, as companion, with my grandmother, and 
in fact regarded me as if I had been her own child. 

In her abode so many human curiosities were collected, and 
so many anecdotes occurred, that, even at this distance of 
time, the recollection of it amuses me. Those who lodged in 
the house dined in company : the table was most plentifully 
served, and the party generally comprised from eight to ten 
select persons. I will endeavor to sketch the leading members 
of the society th^re at the period of which I speak ; and first 
on the list I will place the late Lord Mountmorris, of celebrated 
memory. He was a very clever and well-informed, but eccen- 
tric man ; one of the most ostentatious and at the same time 
parsimonious beings in the world. He considered himself by 
far the greatest orator and politician in Europe ; and it was he 
who sent a florid speech, which he intended to have spoken in 
the Irish house of lords, to the press : the debate on which it 
was to be spoken did not ensue ; but his lordship having neg- 
lected to countermand the publication, his studied harangue 
appeared next day in the Dublin newspapers, with all the 
supposititious clieerings, Sic, duly interposed ! I believe a 
similar Jhux pas has been committed by some English legis- 
lator. 

His lordship, at the period in question, was patronizing what 
is commonly ycleped a Jed captain — one Lieutenant Ham or 
Gam Johnson, of the royal navy, brother to the two judges and 
the attorney of whom I shall speak hereafter. Without being 
absolutely disgusting, Lieutenant Johnson was certainly the 
ugliest man in Christendom. It was said of him that he need 
never fire a shot, since his countenance was sufficient to frighten 
the bravest enemy. His bloated visage, deeply indented by 
that cruel ravager of all comeliness, the small-pox, was nearly 
as large as the body that supported it, and that was by no 
means diminutive. Yet the man was civil and mild, and had 
withal a much higher character as an officer than his captain 
in the Artois frigate. Lord Charles Fitzgerald, who, it was at 
that time thought, preferred a sound nap to a hard battle. 

Next in the company came Sir John O'Flaherty, Bart., and 



86 A DUBLIN BOARDING-HOUSE. 

Lady O'Flaliertj, liis sjwsa. He was a plain, agreeable coun- 
try-gentleman. Her ladyship was to the full hq plain, but not 
quite so agreeable. However, it was (as Mrs. Kyle said) re- 
spectable, at a boarding-liouse, to hear- — " Sir John O'Flaher- 
ty's health!" — and " Lady O'Flaherty's health!" — drank or 
hobnobbed across the table. They formed, indeed, excellent 
make-weights to cram in between Lord Mountmorris and the 
canaille. 

Lady Barry, widow of the late Sir Nathaniel Barry, Bart., 
and mother of Sir Edward (who was also an occasional guest), 
follows in my catalogue, and was as valuable a curiosity as 
any of the set. 

Mrs. Wheeler, the grandmother of Sir Richard Jonah Denny 
Wheeler CufFe, gave up her whole attention to lapdogs ; and 
neither she nor the last-mentioned dowager were by any means 
averse to the fermented grape — though we never saAV either 
of them " very far gone." 

Lady Barry's only daughter, afterward the unfortunate Mrs. 
Baldwin, was also of the party. Though this young female 
had not a beautiful face, it was yet peculiarly pleasing, and 
she certainly possessed one of the finest figures — tall, and 
slender in its proportions, and exquisitely, graceful — I had 
ever seen. Her father. Sir Nathaniel Barry, many years the 
principal physician of Dublin, adored his daughter, and had 
spared no pains nor expense on her education. She profited 
by all the instruction she received, and was one of the most 
accomplished young women of her day. But unfortunately 
he had introduced her to the practice of one very objection- 
able accomplishment — calculated rather to give unbounded 
latitude to, than check, the light and dangerous particles of 
a volatile and thoughtless disposition. He Avas himself enthu- 
siastically fond of theatricals, and had fitted up a theatre in the 
upper story of his own house. There the youthful mind of his 
hitherto untainted daughter was first initiated into all the 
schemes, the passions, the arts, and the deceptions, of lovers 
and of libertines ! — the close mimicry of which forms the very 
essence of dramatic perfection. At sixteen, with all the 
warmth of a sensitive constitution, she was taught to personify 



MISS BAERY HEE CHAEACTEK. 87 

the vices, affect the passions, and assume the frivolities, of her 
giddy sex ! 

Thus, through the folly or vanity ojp her father, she was led 
to represent by turns the flirt, the jilt, the silly wife, the capri- 
cious mistress, and the frail maiden — before her understand- 
ing had arrived at sufficient maturity, or his more serious in- 
structions had made sufficient impression, to enable her to resist 
voluptuous sensations. She had not penetration enough (how 
could she have ?) to perceive that a moral may be extracted 
from almost every crime, and that a bad example may some- 
times be more preservative against error (from exhibiting its 
ruinous consequences) even than a good one. She was too 
young and too unsteady to make these subtle distinctions. 
She saw the world's pleasures dancing gayly before her, and 
pursued the vision — until her mimicry at length became na- 
ture, and her personification identity. After two or three 
years, during which this mistaken course was pursued. Sir Na- 
thaniel died, leaving his daughter in possession of all the pow- 
ers of attraction without the guard of prudence. In the dance 
— in declamation — in music — in the languages — she ex- 
celled : but in those steady and solid qualities which adapt 
women for wedlock and domesticity, she was altogether defi- 
cient. Her short-sighted father had been Aveak enough to 
deck her with the gaudy qualifications of an actress at the ex- 
pense of all those more estimable acquirements which her mind 
and her genius were equally susceptible of attaining. 

The misfortunes which ensued should therefore be attributed 
rather to the folly of the parent than to the propensities of the 
child. Her heart, once sunk into the vortex of thoughtless va- 
riety and folly, her mother was unable to restrain its downward 
progress ; and, as to her weak, dissipated brother. Sir Edward, 
I have myself seen him, late at night, require her to come from 
her chamber to sing, or play, or spout, ^or the amusement of 
his inebriated companions — conduct which the mother had not 
sufficient sense nor resolution to control. However, good for- 
tune still gave Miss Barry a fair chance of rescuing herself, 
and securing complete comfort and high respectability. She 
married well, being united to Colonel Baldwin, a gentleman 



88 A DUBLIN BOARDING-HOUSE. 

of character and fortune : but alas ! that delicacy of mind 
which is the best guardian of female conduct had been irre- 
coverably lost by her pernicious education, and in a few years 
she sank beyond the possibility of regaining her station in 
society. 

Long after the period of her unhappy fall, I saw Mrs. Bald- 
win at the house of a friend of mine, into which she had been 
received, under an assumed name, as governess. This effort 
on her part could not be blamed ; on the contrary, it was most 
commendable ; and it would have been both cruel and unjust, 
by discovering her, to have thwarted it. Though many years 
had elapsed, and her person had meanwhile undergone total 
alteration — her size being doubled, and her features grown 
coarse and common — -I instantly recognised her as as one 
whom I had known long before, but whose name I could not 
recollect. I had tact enough to perceive that she courted con- 
cealment, and, in consequence, I carefully abstained from any 
pointed observation. The mother of the children subsequently 
told me that her governess was an admirable musician, and 
took me to the door of her room to hear her play. She was 
sitting alone at the piano. I listened with an anxiety I can 
not describe nor indeed scarcely account for. She sang not 
with superiority, but in plaintive tones, which I was confident 
I had heard before, yet could not remember where — when an 
air which, from a very peculiar cause, had in early days im- 
pressed itself indelibly on my memory, brought Miss Barry at 
once to my recollection. Her image swam into my mind as 
she appeared when youth, grace, innocence, and accomplish- 
ments, made her a just subject for general admiration, and had 
particularly attracted a friend of mine, Mr. Vicars, the brother 
of Mrs. Peter Latouche, who loved her to distraction. 

Her secret I kept inviolably ; but some person, I believe, was 
afterward less considerate, and she was discovered. Had I 
supposed it possible she could have then enfeebled the morals 
or injured the habits of my friend's children, I should myself 
have privately given her a hint to change her situation ; but I 
never should have hetrayed the poor creature. However, I 
conceived her at that time to be trustworthy in the execution 



A PEOSPECTIYE DUEL. 89 

of the duties slie liad undertaken. She had suffered amply. 
Her own daughter resided with her, and scarcely ever left her 
side. Xo longer a subject for the irregular passions, she had 
just lived long enough, and felt keenly enough, to render her 
follies a warning for her later years, and even to cause her to 
entertain disgust for those errors which had led her to destruc- 
tion : and I then helieved, nor have I now any reason to ques- 
tion the solidity of my judgment, that she was on the direct 
road to prudence and good conduct. 

I have related these events, as I confess myself to be an 
avowed enemy to a dramatic education. That sexual famil- 
iarity which is indispensable upon the stage undermines, and 
is, in my opinion, utterly inconsistent with, the delicacy of 
sentiment, the refinement of thought, and reserve of action, 
which constitute at once the surest guards and the most pre- 
cious ornaments of female character. Strong minds and dis- 
criminating understandings may occasionally escape ; but what 
a vast majority of Thalia's daughters fall victims to the prac- 
tices of their own calling ! 

But let us return to Kyle's boarding-house. The different 
pursuits adopted by these curious members of the society as- 
sembled there were to me subjects of constant entertainment. 
I stood well with all parties. 

One day, after dinner, Lord Mountmorris seemed rather less 
communicative than usual, but not less cheerful. He took out 
his watch ; made a speech, as customary ; drank his tipple (as 
he denominated the bra!ndy-and-water) ; but seemed rather 
impatient. At length, a loud rap announced somebody of con- 
sequence, and the marquis of Ely was named. 
' Lord Mountmorris rose with his usual ceremony, made a 
very low bow to the company, looked again at his watch, re- 
peated his conge, and made his exit. He entered the coach 
where Lord Ely was waiting, and away they drove. Kyle (a 
most curious man) instantly decided that a duel was in agita- 
tion, and tui-ned pale at the dread of losing so good a lodger. 
Lieutenant Gam Johnson was of the same opinion, and equally 
distressed by the fear of losing his lordship's interest for a 
frigate. Each snatched up his beaver, and with the utmost 



90 A DUBLIN BOAEDING-HOUSE. 

expedition pursued the coach. I Avas also rather desirous to 
see ih^fun, as Gam (though with a sigh !) called it ; and made 
the best of my way after the two mourners — not, however, 
hurrying myself so much — as, while they kept the coach in 
view, I was contented with keeping them within sight. Our 
pursuit exceeded a mile, when in the distance I perceived that 
the coach had stopped at Donny brook-fair green, Where, on 
every eighth of June, many an eye seems to mourn for the 
broken skull that had protected it from expulsion. I took my 
time, as I was now sure of my game, and had just reached the 
field when I heard the firing. I then ran behind a large tree, 
to observe further. 

Gram and Kyle had flown toward the spot, and nearly tum- 
bled over my lord, who had received a bullet from the Hon. 
Francis Hely Hutchinson (late collector for Dublin), on the 
right side, directly under his lordship's pistol-arm. The peer 
had staggered and measured his length on the greensward, and 
I certainty thought it was all over with him. I stood snugly 
all the while behind my tree, not Mdshing to have anything to 
do at the coroner's inquest, which I considered as inevitable. 
To my astonishment, however, I saw my lord arise ! and, after 
some colloquy, the combatants bowed to each other and sepa- 
rated. My lord got back to his coach, with aid, and reached 
Frederick street, if not in quite as good health, certainly with 
as high a character for bravery, as when he had left it. In 
fact, never did any person enjoy a wound more sincerely ! He 
kept his chamber a month, and was inconceivably gratified- by 
the number of inquiries daily made respecting his health — 
boasting ever after of the profusion oi friends who thus proved 
their solicitude. His answer from first to last was, " No bet- 
ter." To speak truth, one half of the querists were sent jn 
jest by those whom his singularity diverted. 



CHANGE OF MANNERS. 91 



IRISH BEAUTIES. 

Strictures on Change of Manners — Moral Influpnce of Dress — The Three Beauties — Curious 

Trial respecting Lady M ; Tenniiuition favoraljle to her L-'dyship — Interesting and 

Attecting fn^-idents ot rhat Lady's Life — Sir R M , his Character and Cruelty 

— Lady M marrif^d against her Will — Quits her Husband — Returns — Sir R. mis- 
takes her lor a Rebel in his Sleep, and nearly strangles her. 

It is singular enoUj^li, but at the same time true, tliat female 
beaut J lias of late years kept pace in improvement with mod- 
ern accomplisliments. '^ She who in the early part of my life 
would have been accounted a perfect beauty, whose touch upon 
a harpsichord or spinnet, accompanied by a simple air, sung 
with what they then called "judgment" (in tune), would have 
constituted- her at once a Venus and a syren ; would now be 
passed by merely as a " pretty girl, but such a confounded hore 
with her music !" In fact women fifty years since (and much 
later) not being, generally speaking, thrust into society till they 
had arrived at the age of maturity, were more respected, more 
beloved, and more sedulously attended than in these days, when 
the men seemed to have usurped the ladies' corsets to affect 
their voices, practise their gait, imitate their small-talk, and in 
surtouts and trowsers, hustle ladies off the footpaths, to save 
their own dog-skins from humidity. 

This degradation of both sexes has arisen from various causes. 
Beauty has apparently become less rare, accomplishments more 
common, dress less distinguished, dignity worse preserved, and 
decorum less attended to, than in former times. It is a great 
niistake in women not to recollect their own importance, and 
keep up that just medium between reserve and familiarity 
which constitutes the best criterion whereby to appreciate the 
manners of a gentlewoman. But women are too apt to i-un into 
extremes in everything ; and overlook the fact that neither per- 
sonal beauty nor drawing-room display are calculated to form 
permanent attractions, even to the most adoring lover. The 
breakfast-table in the morning, and fireside in the evening, must 
be the ultimate touchstones of connubial comfort ; and this is a 



92 IRISH BEAUTIES. 

maxim which any woman who intends to marry should never 
lose sight of. 

To such lengths did respects for the t^ex extend, and so 
strong was the impression that men were bound to protect it 
even from accidental offence, that I remember, if any gentle- 
man presumed to pass between a lady and the wall in walking 
the streets of Dublin, he was considered as offering a personal 
affront to her escort ; and if the parties wore swords (as was 
then customary) it is probable the first salutation to the offen- 
der would be, "Draw, sir!" However,! such affairs usually 
ended in an apology to the lady for inadvertence. 

But if a man ventured to intrude into the boxes of the thea- 
tre in his surtout, or boots, or with his hat on, it was regarded 
as a general insult to every lady present, and he had little 
chance of escaping without a shot or a thrust before the fol- 
lov/ing night. Every gentleman then wore, in the evening, 
a sword, a queue, and a three-cocked hat, appointments rath- 
er too fierce-looking for the modern dandy ! while the morn- 
ing-dress consisted of what was then called a French frock, 
a waistcoast bordered with lace, and a couteau de chasse, with 
a short, curved, broad blade, the handle of green ivory, with 
a lion's head in silver or gilt at the end, and a treble chain 
dangling loose from its mouth, terminating at an ornamental 
cross or guard, which surmounted the scabbard. Such was the 
Irish costume : but although either the male or female attire of 
that day might now appear rather grotesque, yet people of 
fashion had then the exclusive dress and air of such, and gen- 
tle women ran no risk of being copied in garb or manner by 
their pretty waiting-maids, now called " young persons !" 

The Irish court at that period was kept up with great state, 
and hence the parties who frequented it were more select. I 
recollect when the wives and daughters of attorneys (who now 
I believe are the general occupiers of the red benches), were 
never admitted to the vice-regal drawing-rooms. How far the 
present growing system of equality in appearance among dif- 
ferent ranks will eventually benefit or injure society in general, 
is for casuists, not for me, to determine. I must, however, take 
occasion to own myself an admirer, and (whenever it is proper) 



MORAL INFLUENCE OF DEESS. 93 

a zealous contender for distinction of ranks ; and to state my 
decided opinion, that nothing but superior talents, learning, 
military reputation, or some other quality which raises men 
by general assent, should be permitted tp amalgamate society. 

It is an observation I have always made (although it may 
be perhaps considered a frivolous one), that dress has a moral 
effect upon the conduct of mankind. Let any gentleman find 
himself with dirty boots, old surtout, soiled neck-cloth, and a 
general negligence of dress, he will, in all probability, find a 
corresponding disposition to negligence of address. He may, 
en deshabille, cm'se and swear, and speak roughly and think 
roughly : but put the same man into full dress; powder him well, 
clap a sword by his side, and give him an evening coat, 
breeches, and silk stockings, he will feel himself quite another 
person ! To use the language of the blackguard would then 
be out of character : he will talk smoothly, afiect politeness, if 
he has it not, pique himself upon good manners, and respect 
the women ; nor will the spell subside until, returning home, 
the old robe-de-chamhre (or its substitute surtout), with other 
slovenly appendages, make him lose again his brief conscious- 
ness of being a gentleman ! 

Some women mistake the very nature and purposes of dress ; 
glaring abroad, they are slatterns at home. The husband de- 
tests in his sposa what he is too apt to practise himself; he 
rates a dirty wife, she retorts upon a ruffianly husband, and 
each of them detests the other for neglect which neither will 
take the trouble of avoiding. 

Three ladies, about the period of my return from London, 
became very conspicuous for their beauty, though extremely 
different in all points both of appearance and manners. They 
still live : two of them I greatly admire, not for beauty 
alone, but for an address the most captivating; and one of 
these especially, for the kindest heart and the soundest sense, 
when she gave it fair play, that I have ever met with among 
females. 

In admitting my great preference to this individual lady, I 
may, perhaps, by those who knoAv her, be accused of partiality, 
less to herself than to a family ; be it so ! she is the wife of 



94 ■ IRISH liEAUTIES. 

my friend, and I esteem lier for his sake, but she is also an ex- 
cellent woman, and I esteem her for her own. 

Another of the parties alluded to, Lady M , is a gentle- 
woman of high birth, and was then, though not quite a beauty, 
in all points attractive. She passed her spring in misfortune 
— her summer in misery — her autumn without happiness ! but 
I hope the winter of her days is spent amidst every comfort. 
Of the third lady I have not yet spoken : though far inferior 
to both the former, she has succeeded better in life than either ; 
and, beginning the world without any pretensions beyond me- 
diocrity, is likely to end her days in ease and more than or- 
dinary respectability. 

My first knowledge of Lady M arose from a circum- 
stance which was to me of singular professional advantage ; 
and, as it forms a curious anecdote, respecting myself, I will 
proceed to relate it. 

At the assizes of Wexford while I was but young at the bar, 

I received a brief in a cause of Sir K, M , Bart., against 

a Mr. H . On perusal, I found it was an action brought 

by the baronet against the latter gentleman respecting his 
lady, and that I was retained as advocate for the lady's honor. 
It was my " first appearance" in that town. But alas ! I had 
a senior in the business ; and therefore was without opportunity 
of displaying my abilities. The ill-fated Bagenal Harvey* 
was that senior counsel, and he had prepared himself to make 
some exhibition in a cause of so much and such universal ex- 
citement. I felt dispirited, and would willingly have given 
up twenty fees in order to possess his opportunity. 

The cause proceeded before Judge Kelly : the evidence was 
finished, and the proper time for the defence had arrived ; 
everything as to the lady was at stake. Bagenal Harvey had 
gone out to take fresh air, and probably to read over some 
notes, or con some florid sentences and quotations with which 
he intended to interlard his elocution. At the moment the 
evidence closed, the judge desired me to proceed ; I replied, 
that Mr. Harvey, my senior, would return into court directly. 

* Aq unfortunate friend of mine who was afterward hanged, and his head 
stuck over the door of the same courthouse. 



AN I^IPKOMPTU SPEECn. 



95 ) 



Judge Kellj, who was my friend, and clearly saw my wish 
said he would not delay public business one minute for any- 
body ; and, by a sort of instinct, or rather impulse — I can not 
indeed exactly say what it was — but certainly it was totally 
impromptu — I began to state her ladyship's case. I always 
had words enough at command ; the evidence afforded suffi- 
cient material for their exercise ; and, in fact, being roused by 
the cause into a sort of knight-errantry, I felt myself completely 
identified with it. If I should succeed, it would greatly serve 
me. 

I forgot poor Bagenal Harvey, and was just getting into 
the marrow and pathos of my case, when the crier shouted out, 
*' Clear the way for Counsellor Harvey!" Bagenal came in, 
puffing and blowing, and struggling through the crowd — 
scarcely able to command utterance. I instantly stopped, and 
begged his pardon, adding that the judge had said the public 
time could wait for nobody ! "So," continued I, "let me just 
show you where I left off!" (turning over the leaves of my 
brief). "There, begin there — it will be useless to repeat 
what I have already said, so begin there." A loud laugh suc- 
ceeded. 

Bagenal became irritated as much as he was susceptible of 
being, and whispered me that he considered it as a personal 
insult : while old Judge Kelly gravely said, " Go on, Mr. Bar- 
rington, go on ! we can have no speeches by dividends ; go on, 
sir!" So on I went, and I believe (because everybody told 
me so) that my impromptu speech was entirely successful. I 
discredited the witnesses by ridicule, destroyed all sympathy 
with the husband, and interested everybody for the wife. In 
ghort I got the judge and jury into good humor. Yet, I know 
not by what means I should have insured a verdict, had not a 
certain point of law, which I believe was then started for the 
first time, occurred to me ; and which, though rational in itself, 
and on that trial recognised by the judge, has since been over- 
ruled in terms, though it stands in substance; — namely, if a 
husband can not tiTily aver, that he has sustained mental injury 
by the loss of that comfort arising from the society of a wife, it 
is anomalous to say he has any claim to damages ; and this 



96 IKISH BEAUTIES. 

averment can scarcely be made, where the parties have been 
separated voluntarily and completely for years.* 

The judge, the kindest-hearted man living, chuckled at this 
new point. The jury, Avho did not much admire the plaintiff, 
were quite pleased with my suggestion ; and after the judge 
had given his charge, in a few minutes, to the utter discomfi- 
ture of the baronet, there was a verdict against him ! His lips 
quivered ; he stood pale and trembling with anger ; and sub- 
sequently quitted the town with the utmost expedition. 

Some time afterward, a reconciliation took place between 
the parties, so far that her ladyship consented to live with him 
again : influenced much, I rather think, by having suffered 
great inconvenience, if not distress, from want of regularity in 
the receipt of her separate maintenance of 7001. per annum. 
I had the pleasure of meeting her frequently at the lady 
lieutenant's parties. 

The conclusion of the renewed intercourse is too curious to 

be omitted. Sir It had taken a house in the city of Dublin ; 

and it was thought possible that he and his wife might, at any 
rate, pass some time under the same roof; but fate decided 
otherwise. 

Sir R was literally insane on all political subjects, his 

imagination being occupied night and day, with nothing but 
papists, Jesuits, and rebels. Once in the dead of the night his 
lady was awakened by a sense of positive suffocation, and 

rousing herself, found' that Sir R was in the very act of 

strangling her! — he had grasped her by the throat with all 
his might, and muttering heavy imprecations, had nearly suc- 
ceeded in his diabolical attempt. She struggled, and at leng-th 
extricated herself from his grasp, upon which he roared out, 
making a fresh effort-^" You infernal papist rebel ! you united 
Irishman ! I'll never part from you alive, if you don't come 
quietly." 

* This is, indeed, altogetlier a species of action maintained in no country 
but England (a money country). Why not transfer the offence to the cri/n,' 
inal side of the courts of justice ? All the rest of Europe ridicules our 
system. The idea entertained on the continent upon such occasions is si- 
lence or death ! — if not the most lucrative, certainly the most honorable 
mode of procedure. 



EXCESS OF LOYALTY. 97 

In fact this crazy Orange-man had in his dream fancied 
that he was contesting with a rebel, whom he had better choke 
than suffer to escape, and poor Lady M was nearly sacri- 
ficed to his excess of loyalty. In her rohe-de-chambre and 
slippers she contrived to get out of the house, and never more 
ventured to return, as she now clearly perceived that even 
her personal safety could not be calculated on in her husband's 
society. 

I have in an another work given a full character of Sir 
II M , and stated my opinion of his worse than mis- 
chievous history of Ireland. One more anecdote of him, and 
I have done. 

While he was high sheriff for the county of Waterford, an 
old man was sentenced to be whipped at the cart's tail for 
some political offence ; when, the executioner not being in 
readiness, the high sheriff, a baronet and member of parliament, 
took up the cat-o'-nine-tails, ordered the cart to move on slowly, 
and operated himself with admirable expertness, but much 
greater severity than the hangman would have used. Thus 
did he proceed to whip the old man through the streets of the 
city ; and when the extreme point was reached, and he was 
scarcely able to raise his arm, he publicly regretted he had not 
a little farther to go ! 

Lady M — was, in her own right, entitled to a fortune of 

15,000/., to be paid on her marriage. Her father, a g^entleman 
of rank and estate, had by some mismanagement become ex- 
tremely embarrassed. Sir E, M a man of family, but 

whose fortune was not large, cast his eye on her beauty — not 
totally overlooking her property. His taste was indisputably 
good : the lady being, at that period, everything that could be 
desired ! She possessed an ardent mind, great constitutional 
gayety, and a sensitive heart ; to which were added a most en- 
gaging figure and a lovely and expressive countenance. Her fa- 
ther she loved dearly -, and for his unhappy circumstances there- 
fore, her heart bled ; but Sir K M ■- could make no im- 
pression upon it. On the contrary, he excited her aversion. 
Thus her affections being unattainable, the baronet resolved if 
possible, to purchase her hand, leaving her heart to some future 

5 



98 IKISH BEAUTIES. 

opportunity ! Hence commences the affecting narrative of her 
ladyship's wrongs and misfortunes, related to me hj herself in 
broken fragments and at several times, 

"I was not aware," said she " what caused my dear father's 
obvious unhappiness, and often was I surprised at the perti- 
nacity with Avhich he pressed the baronet upon my consider- 
ation. I rejected him over and over again ; still his suit was 
renewed, still my father appeared more anxious on his behalf, 
while my mother seconded their wishes. — My aversion in- 
creased ; yet Sir 11 M 's assiduities were redoubled with 

his repulses ; and at length I contemplated the leaving my fa- 
ther's house, if I were longer persecuted by these addresses. 

*' Though young, I knew the failing of my own character, 
which possessed not sufficient resolution to oppose its constitu- 
tional tendencies. Nature had formed me for all the pleasures 
and the pains which are alike inseparable from sensibility. I 
found a glow in every thought, an enthusiasm in every action. 
My feelings were always in earnest. I could love to excess 
and hate to rancor ! but I could do neither with mediocrity. 
I could be the best or the worst of wives. I could endure 
anything Avitli a man I loved, but could not sit upon a throne 
with one whom I might detest. 

" At length I discovered the whole of my father's more than 

pressing embarrassments ; and understood that Sir E, 

M had agreed to give up to him a considerable portion of 

my fortune, if our marriage was effected. This shock, to such 
a disposition as mine, was cruel; and the dilemma was dis- 
tracting, since it involved my father's ruin, or my own ! 

" Often as we sat at our family repasts, have I perceived 
that dear parent lay down the fork he was conveying to his 
lips, and turn away to conceal the agitation of mind which 
might have betrayed to us his distresses. 

" Gradually I found that filial affection was taking the 
strongest hold of me. I thought I could endure unhappiness 
myself, but I could not bear to see my father miserable. I 
weighed the consequences, and reasoned so far as I possessed 
the faculty of reasoning. I saw his ruin or my own was inev- 
itable ! 



FILIAL AFFECTION. 99 

'' The struggle was indeed sharp — it was long — it was very . 
painful: but at lengtli filial piety prevailed over self; and I 
determined upon my own sacrifice. I communicated to my 

father my decision to admit the addresses of Sir H M : 

but, at the same moment, I felt an indescribable change of 
character commence, which, from that sad period, has more or 
less aff'ected every action of my life. I felt a sort of harsh 
sensation arise within my mind, and operate upon my tem.per, 
to which they had previously been strangers. My spirits 
flagged, my pursuits grew insipid, and I perceived that the 
ice of indifference was chilling all the sensibility of my na- 
ture. 

"From the moment of my assent, my father's disposition 
seemed to have undergone almost as radical a change as my 
own. He became once more cheerful, and I had at least the 
gratification of reflecting that, if I were myself lost, I had 
saved a parent ! But I must remark that it M^as not so as to 
my mother, who indeed, had never been kind to me. 

" In due time the settlements were prepared, and my fortune 
I learned, secretly divided. The ceremony was about to be 

performed, and Sir K M at that very hour appeared 

to be the most disagreeable of mankind. There was a sort 
of uncouth civility, an abrupt, fiery, coarse expression, even in 
his most conciliatory manners, which seemed to set all feelings 
of respect or cordiality at defiance. As to love, he was not 
susceptible of the passion, Avhile I was created to enjoy its ten- 
derest blessings. He was half mad by nature ; I had become 
so from misery ! and in this state of mind we met to be united 
at the altar ! I was determined, however, that he should learn 
,by anticipation what he had to expect from me as a wife. * Sir 

R M ,' said I to him, * I am resolved to give you the 

last proof you will ever receive of my candor. I accept you, 
not only as a husband whom I never can love, and never will 
obey, but whom I absolutely detest ! now marry me at your 
peril, and take the consequences !' He laughed convulsively, 
took me by the hand, and having led me into the next room, 
that ceremony was performed to which 1 should have thought 
a sentence of death preferable. The moment we were united, 



100 PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS. 

I retired to my chamber, where tears flowing in torrents, cooled 
my heated feelings. My purpose in marrying was effected, I 
therefore determined that, if possible, I never would live an 
hour in his society, and it was two months before my ill-fated 
stars compelled me to become the actual wife of the most un- 
feeling and abominable of fanatics. 

" Our residence together of course was short, and at twenty- 
one I was thrown upon the world to avoid my husband's soci- 
ety. Being possessed of sufficient means, I travelled ; and for 
the fourteen years of our separation my whole time was an un- 
natural and continued strife between passion and propriety. 
On a late occasion, you were my counsel, and from you noth- 
ing has been concealed. You did me more than justice, you 
have defeated him, and preserved me !" 

I have not seen her ladyship for these many years ; but 
never did I meet with one whom I conceived to be more com- 
pletely thrown away, or whose natural disposition seemed more 
calculated to lead to her own happiness and to the happiness 
of those within her sphere of influence. 



PATEIOIANS AKD PLEBEIANS. 

Thp Three C'ass^^s of Gentlpm'^n in Ireland dppciibed — Irish Poets — Mr. Thomfii= Flinter and 
D. HencPf'y — The Bard — Pf culi;tiirios of the Peasant,-- — Their Ludicrous Misinlonnation 
as to Distance-! accouiite i for — Civility of a Waiter — Tiieir Equivocation and Misdirec- 
tion o I Travellers to Different Places. 

1 WILL now proceed to lay before the reader a brief but more 
general sketch of the state of Irish society at the period of my 
youth, reminding him of the principle which I have before as- 
sumed ; namely, that of considering anecdotes, bon-mots, and 
such-like, valuable only as they tend to exemplify interesting 
facts, relative to history or manners : many of such I have in- 
serted in these fragments ; and as I have been careful through- 
out to avoid mere inventions, my reader need notj by any 
means, reserve their perusal for the study of his travelling car- 
riage. 



THREE CLASSES OF IRISH GENTRY. 101 

Miss Edgewortli, in Ler admirable sketch of Castle RacJcrent, 
gives a faithful picture of the Irish character under the circum- 
stances which she has selected ; and the account that I am 
about to give, may serve as a kind of supplement to that little 
work, as Avell as an elucidation of the habits and manners of 
Irish country society about the period Miss Edgeworth alludes 
to, and somewhat later. 

In those days, then, the common people ideally separated 
the gentry of the country into three classes, and treated each 
class according to the relative degree of respect to which they 
considered it was entitled. 

They generally divided them thus : — 

1. Half-mounted gentlemen. 

2. Gentlemen every inch of them. 

3. Gentlemen to the hack-hone. 

The iirst-named class formed the only species of indepen- 
dent yeomanry then existing in Ireland. They were the de- 
scendants of the small grantees of Queen Elizabeth, Cromwell, 
and King William ; possessed about two hundred acres of land 
each ; in fee farm, from the crown ; and were occasionally ad- 
mitted into the society of gentlemen — particularly hunters — 
living at other times among each other, with an intermixture 
of their own servants with whom they were always on terms 
of intimacy. They generally had good clever horses, which 
could leap over anything, but had never felt the trimming- 
scissors or currycomb. The riders commonly wore buckskin 
breeches, and boots well greased (blacking was never used in 
this country), and carried large thong whips heavily loaded 
with lead at the butt-end, so that they were always prepared 
' either to horsewhip a man or knock his brains out, as circum- 
stances might dictate. These half-mounted gentlemen exer- 
cised the hereditary authority of keeping the ground clear at 
horseraces, hurlings, and all public meetings (as the soldiers 
keep the lines at a review). Their business was to ride round 
the inside of the ground, which they generally did with be- 
coming spirit, trampling over some, knocking down others, and 
slashing everybody who encroached on the proper limits. 
Bones being but very seldom broken, and skulls still seldomer 



102 PATEICIANS AND PLEBEIANS. 

fractured, everybody approved of their exertions, because all 
the bystanders gained therefrom a full view of the sport Avhich 
was going forward. A shout of merriment was always set up 
when a half-mounted gentleman knocked down an interloper ; 
and some of the ^oe^^present, if they had an opportunity, 
roared out their verses* by way of a song to encourage the 
gentlemen. 

The second class, or gentlemen every incli of them, were of 
excellent old families : whose finances were not in so good or- 
der as^hey might have been, but who were popular among all 
ranks. They were far above the first degree, somewhat infe- 
rior to the third ; but had great influence, were much beloved, 
and carried more sway at popular elections and general coun- 
ty meetings, than the other two classes put together. 

The third class, or gentlemen to the hack-hone, were of the 
oldest families and settlers, universally respected, and idolized 
by the peasantry, although they also were generally a little out 
at elbows. Their word was law ; their nod would have im- 
mediately collected an army of cottagers, or colliers, or what- 
ever the population was composed of. Men, Avomen, and 
children, were always ready and willing to execute anything 
"the squire" required, without the slightest consideration as to 
either its danger or propriety. 

A curious circumstance perhaps rendered my family pecu- 
liarly popular. The common people had conceived the notion 
that the lord of CuUenaghmore had a right to save a man's 
life every summer assizes at Maryborough ; and it did fre- 
quently so happen, within my recollection, that my father's 
intercession in favor of some poor deluded creatures (when the 
White Boy system was in activity), was kindly attended to by 

* I recollect an example of those good-humored madrigals. A poet, called 
Daniel Bran, sang it aloud, as he himself lay sprawling on the grass, after 
having been knocked down and ridden over by old Squire Flood, who 
showed no mercy in the "execution of his duty," 

"There was Despard so brave, 

That son of the wave, 
And Tom Conway, the pride of the bower; 

But noble Squire Flood 

Swore, G — d d — n his blood ! 
But he'd drown them all in the Delower." 



TOM FLIXTES AXD DICK HEXESEY. 103 

the government ; and, certainly, besides this number, many 
others of bis tenants owed tbeir lives to similar interference. 
But it was wise in tbe government to accede to sucb repre- 
sentations ; since tlieir concession never failed to create such 
an influence in my father's person over the tenantry, that he 
Avas enabled to preserve them in perfect tranquillity, while 
those surrounding were in a constant state of insubordination 
to all law Avhatever. 

I recollect a Mr. Tom Flinter, of Timahoe, one of the first- 
class gentleman, who had speculated in cows and sheep, and 
everything he could buy up, till his establishment was reduced 
to one blunt faithfub fellow, Dick Henesey, who stuck to him 
throughout aU his vicissitudes. Flinter had once on a time 
got a trifle of money, which was burning, in his greasy pocket, 
and he wanted to expend it at a neighboring fair, where his 
whole history, as well as the history of every man of his half- 
mounted contemporaries, was told in a few verses, by a fellow 
called Ned the dog-stealer, but v>'ho was also a great poet, and 
resided in the neighborhood.* 

In travelling through Ireland, a stranger is very frequently 
puzzled by the singular ways, and especially by the idiomatic 
equivocation, characteristic of every Irish peasant. Some 
years back, more particularly, these men were certainly origi- 
nals — quite unlike any other people whatever. Many an 

* They were considered as a standing joke for man j years in that part of 
the country, and ran as follows: — 

Dialogue between Tom Flinter and his man. 
Tom Flinteu. Dick ! said he'; 
Dick Henesey. What? said he ; 
Tom Flinter, Fetcli me my hat, says he ; 

For I will go, says he; 

To Timalioe, says he; 

To buy the fair, says he ; 

And all that's there, says he. 
Dick. Hexesey. Arrah ! pay xiyliat you owe ! said he ; 

And then you may go, says he; 

To Timahoe", says he ; 

To buy I he fair, says he; 

And all tliat's t.liere, says ho. 
Tom Flinter. Well ! by this and by that! said he; 

Dick ! hang up viy hat ! says he. 



104 * PATEICIANS AND PLEBEIANS. 

hoiir of curious entertainment has been afforded me by their 
eccentricities; yet, though always fond of prying into the 
remote sources of these national peculiarities, I must frankly 
confess that, with all my pains, I nevcT was able to develop 
half of them, except by one sweeping observation ; namely, 
that the brains and tongues of the Irish are somehow differently 
formed or furnished from those of other people. 

One general hint which I beg to impress upon all travellers 
in Hibernia, is the following ; that if they show a disposition 
toward kindness, together v/ith a moderate familiarity, and 
affect to be inqidsitive, whether so or not, the Irish peasant will 
outdo them tenfold in every one of these dispositions. But if 
a man is haughty and overbearing, he had better take care 
of himself. 

I have often heard it remarked and complained of by travel- 
lers and strangers, that they never could get a true answer 
from any Irish peasant as to distances, when on a journey. 
Tor many years I myself thought it most unaccountable. If 
you meet a peasant on your journey, and ask him how far, for 
instance, to Ballinrobe, he will probably say it is, " three short 
miles." You travel on, and are informed by the next peasant 
you meet, ''that it i^Jlve long miles." On you go and the next 
will tell " your honor" it is '^four milesy or about that same." 
The fourth will swear " if your honor stops at three miles, you'll 
never get there !" But on pointing to a town just before you 
and inquiring what place that is, he replies, 

" Oh ! plaze your honor, that's Ballinrobe, sure enough !" 
" Why, you said it was more than three miles off!" 
" Oh yes ! to be sure and sartain, that's from my own cabin, 
plaze your honor. We're no scholards in this country. Ar- 
rah ! how can we tell any distance, plaze your honor, but from 
our own little cabins ? Nobody but the schoolmaster knows 
that, plaze your honor." 

Thus is the mystery unraveiled. When you ask any 
peasant the distance of the place you requu-e, he never com- 
putes it from where you then are, but from his ovm cabin ; so 
that, if you asked twenty, in all probability you would have 
as many different answers, and not one of them correct. But 



IRISH EQUIVOCATIOIsr. 105 

it, is to be observed, tliat frequently you can get no reply at all 
unless you understand Irish. 

In parts of Kerry and Mayo, liowever, I have met with 
peasants wlio speak Latin not badly. ' On the election of Sir 
John Brown for the county of Mayo, Counsellor Thomas Moore 
and I went down as his counsel. The weather was desperately 
severe. At a solitary inn, where we were obliged to stop for 
horses, we requested dinner ; upon which, the waiter laid a 
cloth that certainly exhibited every species of dirt ever in- 
vented. We called and remonstrating with him, ordered a 
clean cloth. He was a low, fat fellow, with a countenance 
perfectly immovable, and seeming to have scarcely a single 
muscle in it. He nodded, and on our return to the room 
(which we had quitted during the interval) we found, instead 
of a clean cloth, that he had only folded up the filthy one into 
the thickness of a cushion. We now scolded away in good 
earnest. He looked at us with the gi-eatest sang-froid, and 
said sententiously, " Nemo me impune lacessit." 

He kept his word : when we had proceeded about four miles 
in deep snow, and through a desperate night, on a bleak road, 
one of the wheels came off the carriage, and down we went ! 
We were at least two miles from any house. The driver 
cursed, in Irish, Michael the waiter, who, he said, had put a 
new wheel upon the carriage, which had turned out to be an 
old one, and had broken to pieces. 

We had to march through the snow to a wretched cottage, 
and sit up all night to get a genuine new wheel ready for the 
morning. 

The Irish peasant, also, never answers any question directly : 
, in some districts, if you ask him where such a gentleman's 
house is, he will point and reply, "Does your honor see that 
large house there, all among the trees, with a green field 
before it?" You answer, "Yes." "Well," says he, "plaze 
your honor that's not it. But do you see the big brick house 
with the cow-houses by the side of that same, and a pond of 
water 1" 

" Yes." 

"Well, plaze your honor, thafs not it. But, if you plaze 

5* 



106 IKISH INNS. 

look quite to the right of that same, and you'll see the top of 
a castle among the trees there, with a road going down to it, 
betune the bushes." 

''Yes." 

"Well, plaze your honor, thafs not it, neither — but if your 
honor will come down this bit of a road a couple of miles, I'll 
show it you sure enough — and if your honor's in a hurry, I can 
run on hotfoot,* and tell the squire your honor's galloping after 
me. Ah ! who shall I tell the squire, plaze your honor, is 
coming to see him ? he's my own landlord, God save his honor 
day and night !" 



IRISH iNisrs. 

Their General Character — Objections commonly made to Them — Answer thereto — Sir 
Charles Vernon's Mimicry — Moll Harding — Accident of nearly a Fatal Natnre to the 
Author. 

An Irish inn has been an eternal subject of ridicule to every 
writer upon the habits and appearance of my native country. 
It is true that, in the early period of my life, most of the inns 
in Ireland were nearly of the same quality ; a composition of 
slovenliness, bad meat, worse cooking, and few vegetables (save 
the royal Irish potato), but plenty of fine eggs, smoked bacon, 
often excellent chickens, and occasionally the hen as soon as 
she had done hatching them — if you could chew her. They 
generally had capital claret, and plenty of civility in all its 
ramifications. 

The poor people did their best to entertain their guests, but 
did not understand their trade ; and even had it been other- 
wise, had neither furniture, nor money, nor credit, nor cattle, 
nor customers enough to keep things going well together. 
There were then no post-horses, nor carriages — consequently, 
very little travelling in Ireland ; and if there had been, the 

* A figurative expression for "with all possible speed" — used by the Irish 
peasants: by taking short cuts, and fairly hopping along, a young peasant 
would beat any good traveller. 



ANECDOTES :kIOLL HAEDIXG. 107 

ruts and holes would have rendered thirty miles a-daj a good 
journey. Yet I verily believe, on the whole, that the people 
in general were happier, at least they appeared vastly more 
contented than at present. I certainl}^ never met with so bad 
a thino: in Ireland as the "Red Cow" in John Bull : for what- 
ever might have been the quality, there was plenty of some- 
thing or other always to be had at the inns to assuage hunger 
and thirst. 

The best description I ever recollect to have heard of an 
Irish inn, its incidents, and appurtenances, was in a sort of 
medley sung and spoken by the present Sir Charles Yernon, 
when he had some place in the lord-lieutenant's establishment 

at Dublin castle -it was delivered by him to amuse the com- 

• ... 

pany after supper, and was an excellent piece of mimicry. 

He took off ducks, geese, pigs, chickens, the cook and the 

landlady-, the guests, &c., to the greatest possible perfection. 

One anecdote respecting an Irish inn may, with modifica- 
tions, give some idea of others at that period. A Mrs. Moll 
Harding kept the natest inn at Ballyroan, close to my father's 
house. I recollect to have heard a passenger (they are very 
scarce there) telling her, " that his sheets had not been aired." 
With great civility Moll Harding begged his honor's pardon, 
arid said, " They certainly were and viust have been well aired, 
for there was not a gentleman came to the house the last fort- 
night that had not slept in them !" 

Another incident which occurred in an Irish inn, is for good 
reasons, much more firmly impressed on my recollection, and 
may give a hint worth having to some curious travellers in 
their peregrinations to Kerry, Killarney, &c. 

The late Earl Farnham had a most beautiful demesne at a 
village called Newtown Barry, County Wexford. It is a 
choice spot, and his lordship resided in a very small house in 
the village. He was always so obliging as to make me dine 
with him on my circuit journey, and I slept at the little inn — 
in those days a very poor one indeed. 

The (lay of my arrival was, on one occasion, wet,, and a very 
large assemblage of barristers were necessitated to put up 
with any accommodation they could get. I was sure of a good 



108 IRISH INNS. 

flinner; but every bed was engaged. I dined with Lord 
r , took my wine merrily, and adjourned to the inn, deter- 
mined to sit up all night at the kitchen-fire. I found every 
one of my brethren in bed ; the maid-servant full of good 
liquor ; . and tb.e man and woman of the house quite as joyously 
provided for. The lady declared, she could not think of per- 
mitting my honor to sit up ; and if I would accept of their little 
snug cupboard-bed by the fireside, I should be warm and com- 
fortable. This arrangement I thought a most agreeable one : 
the bed was let down from the niche, into which it had been 
folded up, and, in a few minutes, I was in a comfortable slum- 
ber. 

My first sensation in the morning was, however, one which 
it is not in my power to describe now, becau^ I could not do 
so five minutes after it was over — sufiice it to say, I found 
myself in a state of suffocation, with my head down and my 
feet upward ! I had neither time nor power for reflection : I 
attempted to cry out, but that was impossible; the agonies of 
death, I suppose, were coming on me, and some convulsive 
effort gave me a supernatural strength that probably saved me 
from a most inglorious and whimsical departure. • On a sudden 
I felt "my position change; and with a crash sounding to me 
like thunder, down the bed and I came upon the floor. I then 
felt that I had the power of a little articulation, and cried out 
"Murder!" with as much vehemence as I was able. The 
man, woman, and maid, by this time all sober, came running 
into the room together. The woman joined me in crying out 
murder ; thes maid alone knew the cause of my disaster, and 
ran as fast as she could for the apothecary, to bleed me. I 
had, however, recovered after large draughts of cold water, and 
obtained sense enough to guess at my situation. 

The maid, having been drunk wHen I v/ent to bed, on awa- 
kening just at break of day to begin to set all matters to rights, 
and perceiving her master and mistress already up, had totally 
forgotten the counsellor 1 -<— and having stronger arms of her 
own than any barrister of the home-circuit, in order to clear 
the kitchen, had hoisted tip the bed into its proper niche, and 
turned the button at the top that kept it in its place : in con- 



MY YOUNGEE BETIHEK. 109 

sequence of wliicli, down went my head and up went my heels ! . 
and as air is an article indispensably necessary to existence, 
death would very soon have ended the argument, had not my 
violent straggles caused the button to' give way, and so brought 
me once more out of the position of the antipodes. The poor 
woman was as much alarmed as I was ! 

I felt no inconvenience afterward. But what has happened 
once may chance to occur again : and I only wonder that the 
same accident does not frequently take place among this kind 
of people and of beds. 



FATAL DUEL OF MY BROTHEE. 

Duel of my Brother WilliRm Barrinarton with Mr. M'Kenzie — Hf> is killed by his Antago- 
nist's Second, General Gillespie — The General's Character — Tried for Murder — Judge 
Brad street's Charge — Extraordinary Incidents of the Trial — The Jury arranged — The 
High-Sheriff (Mr. Lyon?) challenged by Mistake — His Hair cut otf by Henry French Bar- 
rington^Exhibited in the Ballroom — The Curl-Club formed — The Sheriff quits the Coun- 
try, and never returns — Gillespie goes to India: killed there — Observations on his Ceno- 
taph in Westminster Abbey. 

As the circumstances attending the death of my younger 
brother, William Barrington, by the hand of the celebrated 
General Gillespie (whom government has honored with a mon- 
ument in Westminster abbey), have been variously detailed — 
seldom, indeed, twice the same way — I think it right to take 
this opportunity of stating the facts of that most melancholy 
transaction. I will do so as concisely as may be, and as dis- 
passionately as the slaugliter of a beloved brother will admit of. 

William Barrington had passed his twentieth year, and had 
intended, without delay, to embrace the military profession. 
He was active, lively, full of spirit and of animal courage ; his 
predominant traits were excessive good-nature, and a most 
zealous attachment to the honor and individuals of his family. 

Gillespie, then captain in a cavalry-regiment, had shortly 
before the period in question married a Miss Taylor, an inti- 
mate friend of ours, and was quartered in Athy, where my 
BQiother resided. 



110 FATAL DUEL OF MY BKOTIIER. 

A very close and daily intercourse sprang up between the 
families. After dinner, one day, at Gillespie's house, when 
every gentleman had taken more wine than was prudent, a 
dispute arose between my brother and a Mr. M'Kenzie, lieu- 
tenant in an infantry-regiment, quartered at the same place. 
This dispute should never have been suffered to arise ; and, as 
it was totally private, should, at least, never have proceeded 
further. But no attempt was made to either reconcile or check 
it, on the part of Captain Gillespie, although the thing occurred 
at his own table. 

Gillespie w^as a very handsome person ; but it was not that 
species of soldier-like and manly beauty which bespeaks the 
union of courage and generosity. He had a fair and smooth 
countenance, wherein impetuosity appeared to he the prevail- 
ing feature. His, however, was not the rapid flow of transi- 
tory anger, which, rushing ingenuously from the heart, is in- 
stantly suppressed by reason and repentance : I admire that 
temper ; it never inhabits the same mind with treachery or 
malice. On the contrary, a livid paleness overspread the 
countenance of Gillespie upon the slightest ruffle of his humor. 
The vulgar call such, ^^ white-livei-ed persons J' They are no fa- 
vorites with the world in general ; and I have never, through- 
out the course of a long life, observed one man so constituted 
possessing a list of virtues. 

I never could bear Gillespie! — I had an instinctive dislike 
to him, which I strove, in vain, to conquer. I always consid- 
ered him to be a dangerous man — an impetuous, unsafe com- 
panion — capable of anything in his anger. I know I ought 
not to speak with prejudice ; yet, alas ! if I do, who can blame 
me 1 

A cenotaph, voted by the British parliament, has raised his 
fame: but it is the fame of a sahreur — erected on piles of 
slaughter, and cemented by the blood of Indians. No tale of 
social virtues appears to enrich the cornice of his monument. 
I wish there had ! it would at any rate have indicated repent- 
ance. 

To return to my story. Midway between Athy and Carlow 
was agreed on for a meeting. I resided in Dublin, and was 



SHOT BY HIS ANTAGONIST S SECOND. Ill 

ignorant of the transaction till too late ! A croAvd, as usual, 
attended the combat ; several gentlemen, and some relatives 
of mine, were, I regret to say, present. In a small, verdant 
field, on the bank of the Barrow, nry brother and M'Kenzie 
were placed. Gillespie, Avho had been considered as the friend 
and intimate of my family, volunteered as second to M'Kenzie 
(a comparative stranger), who was in no way adverse to an 
am.icable arrangement. Gillespie, however, would hear of 
none ; the honor of a military man, he said, must be satisfied, 
and nothing but hlood, or at least every effort to draw it, could 
form that satisfaction. 

The combatants fired and missed. They fired again : no 
mischief was the consequence. A reconciliation was now pro- 
posed, but objected to by Gillespie. And will it be believed 
that, in a civilized country, when both combatants were satis- 
fied, one. of the principals should be instantly slain by a second ? 
Yet such was the case : my brother stood two fires from his 
opponent, and, while professing his readiness to be reconciled, 
was shot dead by the hand of his opponent's second ! 

Gillespie himself is now departed : he died by the same 
death that he had inflicted. But he was more favored by 
Providence: he died the death of a soldier; he fell by the 
hand of an enemy, not by the weapon of an intimate. 

William was my very beloved brother ! The news soon 
reached me in Dublin. I could not, or rather I durst not, give 
utterance to the nature and extent of my feelings on the com- 
munication. Thus much I will admit, that sorrow had the 
least share in those thoughts Avhich predominated. A passion 
not naturally mine absorbed every other. My^ determination 
was fixed : I immediately set out post ; but my brother had 
been interred prior to my arrival ; and Gillespie, the sole ob- 
ject of my vengeance, had fled, nor was his retreat to be dis- 
covered. I lost no time in procuring a warrant for murder 
against him from Mr. Rian, a magistrate. I sought him in 
every place to which I could attach suspicion ; day and night 
my pursuit was continued, but, as it pleased God, in vain. I 
was not, indeed, in a fit state for such a rencontre ; for, had we 
met, he or I would surely have perished. I returned to Dub- 



112 FATAL DUEL OF MY BROTHER. 

lin, and, as my mind greAv cooler, tlianked Heaven that I had 
not personally found him. I, however, published advertise- 
ments Avidely, offering a reward for his apprehension ; and at 
length he surrendered into the prison of Maryborough. 

The assizes approached : and I can not give the sequel of 
this melancholy story better than by a short recital of Gilles- 
pie's extraordinary trial, and the still more extraordinary in- 
cidents Avhich terminated the transaction. 

The judges arrived at the assize town (it was during the 
summer assizes of 1788), accompanied in the usual way by the. 
high-sheriff (Mr. Lyons, of Watercastle), and escorted by nu- 
merous bailiffs and a grand cavalcade. Mr. Lyons was a gen- 
tleman of taste and elegance, Avho had travelled much ; he 
possessed a small fortune, and a beautiful cottage ornee, on the 
banks of the Nore, near Lord de Vesci's. Mr. Thomas Kem- 
mis (afterward crown solicitor of L-eland) was the attorney 
very judiciously selected by Captain Gillespie to conduct his 
defence. 

The mode of choosing juries in criminal cases is well known 
to every lawyer, and its description would be uninteresting to 
an ordinary reader. Suffice it to say that, by • the methods 
then used of selecting, arranging, and summoning the panel, a 
sheriff, or sub-sheriff^, in good understanding with a prisoner, 
might afford him very considerable if not decisive aid. And 
when it is considered that juries must be unanimous, even one 
dissentient or obstinate juror being capable of effectually pre- 
venting any conviction — and further, that the charge we are 
alluding to was that of murder or homicide, occurring in con- 
sequence of a duel, on the same ground and at the same time 
— it might fairly be expected that the culprit would stand a 
good chance of acquittal from military men, who, accustomed 
to duelling, and living in a country where affairs of that kind 
were then more frequent than in any other, would obviously be 
inclined to regard the circumstance more indulgently than a 
jury of mere civilians would do. 

To select, by management, a military jury, was therefore 
the natural object of the prisoner and his friends ; and> in fact, 
the list appeared with a number of half-pay officers at the head 



TKIAL OF GILLESPIE. 113 

of it, who, as gentlemen, were naturally pained at seeing a 
brother- officer and a man of most prepossessing appearance in 
the dock for murder. The two prisoners challenged forty- 
eight ; the list was expended, and the* prosecutor was driven 
back to show cause why "he objected to the first thirteen. No 
legal ground for such objection could be supported ; and thus, 
out of twelve jurors, no less than ten were military officers. 
The present Lord Downe and the late Judge Fletcher were 
the prisoner's counsel. 

On this, perhaps, the most interesting trial ever known in 
that county, numerous witnesses having been examined, the 
principal facts proved for the prosecution were — that after 
M'Kenzie and my brother had fired four shots without effect, 
the latter said he hoped enough had been done for both their 
honors, at the same time holding out his hand to M'Kenzie, 
whose second. Captain Gillespie, exclaimed that his friend 
sliould not be satisfied, and that the affair should proceed. The 
spectators combined in considering it concluded, and a small 
circle having been formed, my brother, who persisted in utter- 
ing his pacific wishes, interposed some harsh expressions tow- 
ard Gillespie, who thereupon losing all control over his temper, 
suddenly threw a handkerchief to William Barrington, asking 
if he dared to take a corner of that. The unfortunate boy, full 
of spirit and intrepidity, snatched at the handkerchief, and at 
the same moment received a ball from Gillespie through his 
body ; so close were they together, that his coat appeared 
scorched by the powder. He fell, and was carried to a cabin 
hard by, where he expired in great agony the same evening. 
As he was in the act of falling, his pistol went off. Gillespie 
immediately fled, and was followed by three of his own dra- 
goons, whom he had brought with him, and who were present 
at the transaction, but whom he declined examining on the 
trial. The spectators were very numerous, and scarcely a dry 
eye left the field. 

Captain Gillespie's defence rested upon an assertion on his 
part of irritating expressions having been used by my brother, 
adding that the cock of his own pistol was knocked off by my 
brother's fire. But that very fact proved everything against 



J 14 FATAL DUEL OF MY BEOTHEE. 

liim : because his shot must have been fired and have taken 
effect in my brother's body previously ; for if the cock had 
been broken in the first place, Gillespie's pistol could not have 
gone off. In truth, the whole circumstance of a second killing 
a principal because he desired reconciliation was, and remains, 
totally unexampled in the history of duelling, even in the most 
barbarous eras and countries. 

Judge Bradstreet, who tried the prisoners, held it to be 
clearly murder by law. A verdict of even manslaughter must 
(he contended) be returned by a forced or rather false con- 
struction ; but acquit him (Gillespie) generally, the jury could 
not. 

The prosecution was not followed up against M'Kenzie, 
whose conduct throughout had been that of an' officer and a 
gentleman, and who had likewise desired reconciliation. Of 
course, he was acquitted. 

The jury had much difficulty in making up their verdict. 
Some of them, being men of considerable reputation, hesitated 
long. They could not acq[uit ; they would not convict : and 
hence a course was taken which corresponded neither with the 
law nor the evidence. A verdict of ^^justifiable homicide''' was 
returned, in consequence of which Captain Gillespie was dis- 
chalrged on his recognizance to appear in the court of king's 
bench the ensuing term, and plead his majesty's pardon. 

Thus was compromised the justice of the country. Thus 
commenced the brilliant career of that general whom the mu- 
nificence of the British nation has immortalized by a monument 
among her heroes ! Thus did the blood of one of the finest 
youths of Ireland first whet Gillespie's appetite for that course 
of glorious butchery to which he owed his subsequent eleva- 
tion. But conscience is retributive, and Heaven is just. I 
hear that he was never happy after. Intrepid to excess, he 
often tempted fate ; and his restless and remorseful existence 
was at length terminated by a Gcntoo under the walls of Ban- 
galore. 

The circumstances attending General Gillespie's death are 
remarkable, and manifest, in my opinion, desperation rather 
than r-eal bravery. He had, contrary to instructions, attempted 



A LUDICEOUS DsCIDENT. 115 

to storm : his fire Avas inadequate — his troops repulsed; new 
attempts were made, but again unsuccessfully, numerous brave 
men being sacrificed to no purpose. Still the general per- 
sisted : even the guard was taken frorfi the paymaster, who 
had treasure under his care. Gillespie was aware that he had 
disobeyed instructions, and was determined to succeed or per- 
ish in the attempt. He damned the paymaster, who remon- 
strated against being left unprotected — looked for a moment 
through his glass — and seeing his men falling fast, he drew 
his sword, called upon every soldier to follow him, and in five 
minutes received several balls, which ended his cares and ex- 
istence. Requiescat in pace ! — but never will I set my foot in 
Westminster abbey. 

Scarcely was the melancholy trial referred to over, when 
the case was succeeded by another almost in the opposite ex- 
treme — ^altogether too ludicrous, indeed, to form the termina- 
tion of so serious a business, but at the same time too extraor- 
dinary and too public to be omitted. It was certainly, in its 
way, as unparalleled an affair as that which gave rise to it. 

On the evening of the trial, my second brother, Henry French 
Barrington — a gentleman of considerable estate, and whose 
perfect good temper, but intrepid and irresistible impetuosity 
when assailed, were well known (the latter quality having 
been severely felt in the county before) — came to me. He 
was, in fact, a complete country-gentleman, utterly ignorant 
of the law, its terms and proceedings ; and as I was the first 
of my name who had ever followed any profession (the army 
excepted), my opinion, so soon as I became a counsellor, was 
considered by him as oracular. Indeed, questions far beyond 
m'ine, and sometimes beyond the power of any person existing, 
to solve, were frequently submitted for my decision by our 
neighbors in the country. 

Having called me aside out of the bar-room, my brother 
seemed greatly agitated, and informed me that a friend of ours, 
who had seen the jury-list, declared that it had been decidedly 
2^ackcd ! — concluding his appeal by asking me what, he ought 
to do. 1 told him we should have "challenged the aiTay." — 
" That was my opinion, Jonah," said he, " and I will do it 



116 FATAL DUEL CF MY BEOTHER. 

now !" adding an oatli, and expressing a degree of animation 
wliicli I could not account for. I apprised him that it was now 
too late, as it should have been done before the trial. 

He said no more, but departed instantly, and I did not think 
again upon the subject. An hour after, however, my brother 
sent in a second request to see me. I found him, to all appear- 
ance, quite cool and tranquil. " I have done it, by G-d !" 
cried he exultingly ; " 'twas better late than never !" and with 
that he produced frOm his coat-pocket a long queue and a hand- 
ful of powdered hair and curls. " See here !" continued he, 
" the cowardly rascal !" 

" Heavens !" cried I, " French, are you mad ?" 

"Mad!" replied he, "no, no! I followed your own advice 
exactly. I went directly after I left you to the grand-jury 
room to * challenge the array,^ and there I challenged the head 
of the array, that cowardly Lyons ! He peremptorily refused 
to fight me ; so I knocked him down before the grand-jury, and 
cut oif his curls and tail — see, here they are — the rascal! — 
and my brother Jack has gone to flog the sub-sheriff!" . 

I was thunderstruck, and almost thought my brother was 
crazy, since he was obviously not in. liquor at all. But, after 
some inquiry, I found that, like many other country-gentlemen, 
he took words in their commonest acceptation. He had seen 
the high-sheriff coming in with a great " array, ^^ and had thus 
conceived my suggestion as to challenging the array was lit- 
eral ; and accordingly, repairing to the grand-jury dining-room, 
l^ad called the high-sheriff aside, told him he had omitted chal- 
lenging him before trial, as he ought to have done according 
to advice of counsel, but that it was better late than never, and 
that he must immediately come out and fight him. Mr. Lyons 
conceiving my brother to be intoxicated, drew back, and re- 
fused the invitation in a most peremptory manner. French 
then collared him, tripped up his heels, and, putting his foot 
on his breast, cut off his side-curls and queue with a carving- 
knife which an old waiter named Spedding (who had been my 
father's butler, and liked the thing) had readily brought him 
from the dinner-table. Having secured his spoils, my brother im- 
mediately came off in triumph to relate to me his achievement. 



FOEIVIATION OF THE CUKL-CLUB. 117 

Mr. Lyons was a remarkably fine, handsome man ; and, hav- 
ing lived very much abroad, was by no means acquainted with 
the humors of Irish country-gentlemen, with whom he had as- 
sociated but little, and by whom he was not at all liked ; and 
this his first reception must have rather surprised him. 

Mr. Flood, one of the grand-jury, afterward informed me 
that no human gravity could possibly withstand the astonish- 
ment and ludicrous figure of the mutilated high-sheriff; the 
laugh, consequently, was both loud and long. Nobody chose 
to interfere in the concern ; and as Mr. Lyons had sustained 
no bodily injury, he received very little condolement among 
the country-gentlemen. 

My situation in this curious denouement was truly to be com- 
miserated, since 1 should be considered as the adviser of my 
brother ; and I therefore determined to consult Mr. Downe 
(Gillespie's counsel) as to what was best to be done in the 
matter. 

Mr. (afterward Lord) Downe, always proud, icy, and deco- 
rous, seemed to think my brother's case irremediable, and that 
a couple of years' imprisonment, and a heavy fine, at least, 
must be the necessary result of such a trimming of a high- 
sheriff in the face of a county — advising French, at the same 
time, to fly and make terms, if possible. *' Fly !" said French 
Barrington, when I informed him of the suggestion ; "no — no ! 
tell Counsellor Thingumhoh to go to the ball to-night, and he'll 
see more of the matter." In fact, my brother went to the ball- 
room when it was crowded, and having tied the sheriff's curls 
and queue to a lamp which hung in the centre of the room, 
got upon a form and made a loud proclamation of iho, whole 
transaction from first to last. A sort of sympathetic feeling 
caught the young men in the room, many of whom were my 
brother's companions : they immediately led out their partners, 
and formed a circle-dance (as about a May -pole) around the 
sheriffs spoils which were sticking to the lamp. The remon- 
strances of mothers, and other discreet efforts, were totally 
vain — the girls liked the fun, and a succession of different sets 
did honor in turn to Mr. Lyons' late queue and curls. A club 
was subsequently proposed, to be called the Curl-dub, and to 



118 ENTKANCE INTO TAKLIAIVIENT. 

be held every summer assize ; and this was for several years 
kept up. 

The ensuing morning, my brother dressed up the bridle of 
his hunter with the curls and queue, newly powdered ; and 
having paraded the streets for a considerable time (avoiding 
the judge's residence), he rode home ; and was never called to 
account or molested on the subject in any Avay whatsoever. 

Mr. Lyons left the country almost immediately, went back 
to the continent, and never after, at least to my knowledge, 
returned. 

The matter, however, having been justly represented in a 
serious light to the judge, he sent for me, and I related the 
entire truth. He had been much dissatisfied with the verdict, 
and had received strong hints as to the arrangement of the 
jury : he could not restrain a smile, but said he must, if re- 
quired, give permission to a magistrate to take examinations 
against Mr. Barrington. He, however, declined all personal 
interference on circuit ; desiring Mr. Lyons to apply to the 
king's bench, where no doubt he would be duly attended to, 
according to the merits of the case. But no examinations what- 
ever were taken; nor was any application made to the king's 
bench. It could not have been made without involving the 
question as to the way in which the jury was constituted ; and 
since that matter would not bear sifting, the circumstances 
were suffered to remain without further investigation. 



ENTRANCE INTO PARLIAMENT. 

My Fir?t Entrance into the Irish House of Commnns — Dinner at Sir John Parnel's — Com- 
nif'ncement of nny Intimacy with Public Men o*' Cflehiiry — Mniden Speech — I Attack 
Grattan and Curran — tiuicide of Mr. Thoroton — Lord De Blacquiere — His Character. 

The day on which I first took my seat in the Irish parlia- 
ment for the city of Tuam, I still reflect on as one of the most 
gratifying of my life. The circumstance, abstractedly, was 
but of secondary consideration ; but its occurrence brought 
back to my mind the events of past ages, and the high respec- 



FAMILY PFJDE SIE JOHN PAENEL. 119 

tability of tlie race from wliicL. I sprang. I almost fancied, as 
I entered the lionse, that I could see my forefathers, ranged 
upon those seats which they had so long and so honorably oc- 
cupied in the senate of their country, welcoming their descend- 
ant to that post which had not for a few years past been filled 
by any member of the family. In fact, the purer part of my 
ambition was hereby gratified. I felt myself an entirely in- 
dependent representative of an equally independent nation — 
as a man assuming his proper station in society, not acquiring 
a new one. 

I confess I always had, and still continue to have, and to 
nourish, the pride which arises from having been born a gen- 
tleman. I am aware that wealth, and commerce, and perhaps 
talent, have, in modern times, occasioned family pride to be 
classed in the rank of follies, but I feel it, nevertheless, most 
strongly — and if it be even a crime, I am culpable ; if a folly, 
I submit" to be regarded as imbecile. The sensations I ex- 
perienced were indeed altogether delightful, upon finding my- 
self seated under that grand and solemn dome. I looked around 
me, and saw the most dignified men of that day — the ablest 
orators of the period — many of the best-bred courtiers, and 
some of the most unsophisticated patriots in the empire ! These, 
including a few friends and intimates of my family, were min- 
gled here and there, in amicable groups, and by turns kindly 
encouraged a young barrister, of only two years' practice, with- 
out patronage or party, as a fair aspirant to rank and eminence. 

I was very greatly moved and excited ; but it was- not ex- 
citement of an ephemeral or feverish character : on the con- 
trary, my emotions had their source in a tranquil, deep-seated, 
perhaps proud satisfaction, impossible to be clearly described; 
and almost impossible to be felt by any but such as might be 
placed in circumstances precisely similar. 

There were members present, I have already said, with 
whom I was personally acquainted. My friend. Sir John Par- 
nel, partly, I am sure, on my account, and partly, no doubt, 
with a view to the service of the government, lost no time in 
introducing me to many of his own particular friends. - 

I dined with him on that day: he was then chancellor of 



120 ENTRANCE INTO PARLrAMENT. 

the exchequer. The entire party I do not recollect ; but I 
remember perfectly those individuals of it with whom I subse- 
quently cultivated acquaintance. Among them were Major 
Hobert (since Lord Buckinghamshire) Isaac Corry, Sir John 
(since Lord) De Blacquiere, Robert Thoroton, "White, Marcus 
Beresford (Lord Clare's nephew), the present Lord Oriel (then 
speaker), Thomas Burgh, of Bert, Sir Hercules Langreish, and 
James Cuffe (since Lord Tyrawley). The scene was new to 
me : hitherto, my society in Dublin had naturally fallen among 
the members of my own profession ; we were all barristers, and 
I felt myself but a barrister : and though certainly we formed 
at that time the second-best society in L-eland, it was inferior 
to that of which I had now become a member. I found myself, 
in fact, associated as an equal in a circle of legislators whose 
good-breeding, wit, and conviviality, were mingled with politi- 
cal and general information. The first steps of the ladder were 
mounted ; and as meanwhile Sir John's champagne was excel- 
lent and quickly passed round, my spirits rose to a pitch far 
higher than in the morning, and any talent for conversation 
or anecdote which I might possess, involuntarily coming out, 
Sir John Parnel, shaking his fat sides with laughter, according 
to his usual custom, said to me, before we broke up, "Barring- 
ton, you'll do !" upon which. Sir Hercules Langreish, who had 
very much the tone of a methodist preacher, yet was one of 
the wittiest men in Ireland, immediately said, "No— we must 
have another trial ;" and a day was fixed to dine with him. 

My acquaintance soon augmented to a degree almost incon- 
venient. My friendship I limited to such men as I held to 
possess congeniality of sentiment ; and before any long time 
had elapsed, I was not only the frequent guest of many of the 
distinguished characters of Ireland, but was considered as an 
early and favored candidate for any professional promotion 
which the shortniess of my standing at the bar would admit of. 

Reflecting, soon after I had taken my seat, on the novel na- 
ture of my situation, I felt that it was beset by considerable 
difficulties. I allude to the decision necessary for me to come 
to with respect to the line of politics I meant to pursue. J was 
not a new man, by whom any course might be taken, without 



POLITICAL PARTIES. 121 

exciting comment or question.' On tlie contrary, I was of an. 
old family, the importance and influence of which I was desir- 
ous to revive, and hence it became requisite that I should weigh 
my actions well, and avoid precipitancy. 

Political parties at that time ran high, though but little in- 
dividual hostility existed. Grattan, the two Ponsonbys, Cur- 
ran, Brownlow, Forbes, Bowes, Daly, Connolly, Arthur Brown, 
and numerous other respectable personages, were then linked 
together in a phalanx of opposition which, under the name of 
whiggery, not only assailed the government upon every feasi- 
ble occasion, but was always proposing measures which under 
the then existing system were utterly inadmissible. The op- 
position had the advantage in point of ability, and therefore, 
nothing but supreme talent had any chance, among them, of 
rendering its possessor useful or valued. Though my nature 
was patriotic, I ever respected the aristocracy, which, while 
the democracy exhibits a people's general character and en- 
ergy, tends to embellish the state, and to give it an imposing 
grandeur. 

The supporters of the Irish government, as I have said, were 
certainly inferior, except in patronage and power, to the oppo- 
sition by which they were assailed. But they lived socially : 
there was a sort of convivial union among them, which, whether 
in high or low life, is of all other ties, for a while most binding 
upon my countrymen. It was therefore rather inconsistent in 
Lord Clare to give ofPence, as he did, to many of the most re- 
spectable gentlemen of Ireland by calling the whigs an " eating 
and drinking club," since the sarcasm might, at legist with 
equal justice, have been retorted on the supporters of his maj- 
. esty's government. All the great constitutional questions were, 
in 1790, supposed to have been arranged. Still the opposition 
sought a more radical reform, to which the government would 
not accede. They wrangled, in fact, about every trifle — and 
that at a time when the local concerns of the country were ad- 
vancing to the highest pitch of prosperity. To neither party, 
however, attached any dishonorable stigma, which should pre- 
vent an honest man from joining their ranks ; and meanwhile, 
I sought celebrity and advancement. The coast was clear be- 

6 



122 ENTRANCE INTO PARLIAMENT. 

fore me. I was my own master, and free to choose my own 
course. In case of my connecting myself Avitli the whigs, I 
saw that I must play but a very inferior part in their game. 
I felt that amidst such an assemblage of talent, I had but little 
right to expect eminence, and still less probability of acquir- 
ing professional advancement, even if my friends should become 
victorious. But above all, I reflected that what at first view 
had appeared to me a blaze of constitutional patriotism, dAvin- 
dled, on a closer inspection, into what is generally called party. 

The country had prospered beyond all possible anticipation, 
and was still farther advancing in prosperity, under the then 
existing system of administration. I did not perceive that any 
immediate change of men or of measures Avas at all in prospect, 
nor that it was at that moment necessary, or even desirable. 
My immediate personal connections were on the side of the 
government, I had always doubted the sincerity of the whigs : 
my doubts were now realized, and, on the whole consideration, 
I determined to attach myself to the administration. I had 
previously voted with them on the choice of a speaker; but 
that I did not consider as constituting any pledge as to my 
future conduct. I voted for Mr. Forster, as the friend of Sir 
John Parnel, and because I considered him more fitting for the 
station than his opponent, Mr. William Ponsonby. 

Thus my mind being at length made up, I' determined to 
render myself of some' importance to the side I had adopted. 
The common course of desultory debate (even conquest over 
declaimers of my own calibre), would have led to no distinction. 
I decided either to rise or fall; and with this view, resolved 
to fly at once at the highest game, in which attempt even if I 
should not succeed, the trial itself would be honorable. My 
earliest effort v/as, therefore, directed against the two most 
celebrated speakers of that period, Grattan, and Curran ; and 
on the first day I rose, I exhibited a specimen of what I m.ay 
now call true arrogance. The novelty of such unexpected 
effrontery surprised the house, and afterward surprised myself. 
It was a species of bold hardihood, which, I believe, no person 
who had a just sense of his own inferiority would have ven- 
tured on without great hesitation. I launched into a strong 



MY MAIDEN SPEECH. 123 

philippic on the conduct of the most able and respectable, 
opposition that Ireland had ever possessed. I follovred and 
traced the whigs, as I thought, through all their meanderings 
and designs. In a word, I surpassed the boundaries, not only 
of what I had myself resolved, but of what common prudence 
and propriety should have dictated. The government party, 
at the same time, was evidently not gratified. Its members, 
no doubt, considered me as a lost partisan, who had courted 
and called for my own suppression ; and with some portion of 
the same feeling myself, I sat down almost ashamed of my 
forwardness, and awaiting, if not with resignation, at least Avith 
certainty, a just although cruel chastisement. How, then, 
must I have been surprised, and how wofully rebuked, by the 
mild and gentlemanly retorts which I received from Grattan ! 
while Gurran's good temper never showed itself more con- 
spicuously than in his treating me merely with wit and face- 
tiousness. I was abashed and mortified on contrasting the for- 
bearance of those great men with my OAvn intemperance. 
Had I perceived anything like contempt in that forbearance, I 
really believe I should have found it difficult to resume my 
spirits in the house ; but no such feeling appeared toward me, 
and it is most singular to say, that some incidents which 
sprang from that very night's debate gave rise both to the 
friendship of Mr. Grattan, with which I was afterward honored, 
and to the close intimacv between me and Mr. Curran, which 
was never after interrupted. 

I had the good fortune on that occasion, to make one fair 
hit as to Grattan, which he afterward told me he was much 
pleased by. It came across me at the moment — in fact, most 
of the speeches I ever made have been literally impromptu. I 
never studied a set speech in my life, except on law cases ; 
and perhaps to this circumstance I may honestly attribute 
an incorrectness of language that frequently attended my best 
efforts. 

Grattan had repeatedly assailed our side of the house, as " a 
side from which all public virtues had long been banished." 
I observed, that " the right honorable gentleman had proved 
unequivocally the falsehood of his own assertion, that public 



124: ENTEANCE INTO PARLIAMENT. 

virtue was confined to one side of the house — for I had had 
the honor of seeing the right honorable gentleman himself on 
hothr I alluded to his having supported government against 
Mr. Flood, after the vote of ^£50,000 by parliament. This joke 
was loudly cheered, and perhaps somewhat contributed to save 
me from discomfiture. 

From that day I attached myself zealously and sincerely to 
the administration of Lord Westmoreland. I became more or 
less intimate with almost every member of my party in parlia- 
ment. I formed close and lasting friendships with Edward 
Cooke, the unfortunate and lamented B/obert Thoroton, Isaac 
Oorry, and Sir John De Blacquiere ; and it was not very long 
before the opposition also opened their convivial ranks to 
receive me. Curran and Arthur Brown were the earliest of 
my intimates on that side the house ; and before. 1792 had 
expired, I felt myself as happy on all points, and as much 
befriended, as any man of my standing who had preceded me. 

Before I went into parliament, I had become acquainted 
with Mr. R. Thoroton, who had come over to Ireland with the 
duke of Rutland. He had the manner of a coxcomb, but the 
heart of a friend, and the sentiments of a gentleman. He was 
clerk of the house of commons ; and being by no means a com- 
mon man, formed a necessary part of all our societies. He 
and I lived much together : and I found the intercourse very 
advantageous, since my friend knew everything that was going 
forward, and, under the rose, set me right on many occasions. 
At the same time, I was aware that circumstances existed, 
which were the cause, to him, of great anxiety ; and, finally, a 
most unexpected event — namely, the death of Mr. Thoroton 
by his own hand — deprived me of one of the sincerest and 
most useful friends I ever possessed. 

But among the foremost of all those persons who, from first to 
last, endeavored to do me service, was a man universally 
esteemed for his gentlemanly manners, and as universally 
abused for public jobbing. As to the latter, it concerned not 
me ; while his friendship was of the greatest advantage. 

Sir John (afterward Lord) De Blacquiere (I believe of Swiss 
descent) had been colonel of a regiment of heavy cavalry in 



SIR JOHN DE BLACQTJIERE. 125 

Ireland ; had acted as secretary of legation in France with 
Lord Harcourt, and, having succeeded him there for a short 
time as minister, came to Ireland with his lordship as principal 
secretary, and becoming a permanent' resident, attached him- 
self to that side of politics whence only he could derive the 
great object of his exertions — a revenue sufficiently ample to 
enable him to entertain his friends as well, and far more agree- 
ably, than any other person I had previously met. Nobody 
ever understood eating and drinking better than Sir John De 
Blacquiere ; and no man ever was better seconded in the 
former respect than he was by his cook, Mrs. Smith, whom he 
brought from Paris, after he had been minister there. His 
company seldom exceeded ten in number, but so happily was 
it selected, that I never yet saw a person rise from his table 
who did not feel gratified. Sir John was one of the old 
school; and with all the playful good-breeding by which it 
was distinguished, he had nothing of that starch pride which, 
in more recent times, has supplanted conviviality without 
making men either wiser, better, or happier. 

Sir John certainly was a pluralist, enjoying at one time, the 
first, the middle, and the last pension on the Irish civil list. 
He was director of the public works in Dublin ; and to his 
johhing is that capital indebted for its Avide streets, paving, 
lighting, and convenient fountains. He made as much as he 
could of these works, it is true ; but every farthing he acquired 
in Ireland, he expended in it. If his money came from the 
public pu.rse, it was distributed to the public benefit : if he 
received pensions from the crown, butchers, bakers, and other 
tradesmen, pocketed every shilling of it. He kneAv employ- 
ment to be the best species of charity. In short, Sir John De 
Blacquiere was as much abused,, and as much regarded as any 
public character of any period. 



126 SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE lEISH PARLIAMENT. 



SINGULAE CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH PAIl- 

LIAMENT. 

Anecdote of Tottenham in Ms Boots — Interesting Trial of the Enrl of Kingston for Murder 
— Descriplion of the Forms ustd on ihat Occasion. 

A VERY singular custom prevailed in tlie Irisli house of com- 
mons wliicli never was adopted in England, nor have I ever 
seen it mentioned in print. The description of it may be 
amusing. 

On the day whereon the routine business of the budget was 
to be opened for the purpose of voting supplies, the speaker 
invited the whole of the members to dinner in the house, in his 
own and the adjoining chambers. Several peers were accus- 
tomed to mix in the company ; and I believe an equally happy, 
joyous, and convivial assemblage of legislators never were seen 
together. All distinctions as to government or opposition 
parties were totally laid aside ; harmony, wit, Avine, and good- 
humor, reigning triumphant. The speaker, clerk, chancellor 
of the exchequer, and a very few veteran financiers, remained 
in the house till the necessary routine was gone. through, and 
then joined their happy comrades — the party seldom breaking 
up till midnight. 

On the ensuing day the same festivities were repeated ; but 
on the third day, when the report Avas to be brought in, and 
the business discussed in detail, the scene totally changed ; 
the convivialists were noAV metamorphosed into doAvnright pub- 
lic declamatory enemies, and ranged, on opposite sides of the 
house, assailed each other without mercy. EA^ery questionable 
item was debated — every proposition deliberately discussed — 
and more zealous or assiduous senators could nowhere be 
found than in the very members who, during tAvo days, had 
appeared to commit the whole funds of the nation to the man- 
agement of half a dozen arithmeticians. 

But all this was consonant to the national character of the 
individuals. Set them at table, and no men enjoy themselves 



"tottenha^i in his boots." 127 

half so mucli ; set tliem to business, no men ever worked witli 
more earnestness and effect. A steady Irishman will do more 
in an hour, when fairly engaged upon a matter which he 
understands, than any other countryman (so far, at least, as 
my observation has gone) in two : the persons of whom I am 
more immediately speaking- — they certainly were extraordi- 
narily quick and sharp ! I am, however, at the same time 
ready to admit that the lower orders of officials — such for 
instance as mere clerks in the public offices, exhibited no claim 
to a participation in the praise I have given their superiors : 
they were, on the other hand, freq^uently confused and incor- 
rect ; and among that description of persons I believe there 
were then fewer competent men than in most countries. 

Another custom in the house gave rise to a very curious an- 
ecdote, which I shall here mention. The members of parlia- 
ment formerly attended the house of commons in full dress — 
an arrangement first broken through by the follov/ing circum- 
stance : — 

A very important constitutional question was debating be- 
tween government and the opposition — a question, by-the-by, 
at which my English reader will probably feel surprised — 
namely, *' as to the application of a sum of sixty thousand 
pounds, then lying unappropriated in the Irish treasury, being 
a balance after paying all debts and demands upon the coun- 
try or its establishments." The numbers seemed to be nearly 
poised — although it had been supposed that the majority 
would incline to give it to the king, while the opposition v.^ould 
recommend laying it out upon the country — when the ser- 
geant-at-arms reported that a member wanted to force into the 
'house, undressed, in dirty boots, and splashed up to his shoul- 
ders ! 

The speaker could not oppose custom to privilege, and was 
necessitated to admit him. It proved to be Mr. Tottenham, 
of Ballycarny, County Wexford, covered Avith mud, and wear- 
ing a pair of huge jack-boots ! Having heard that the question 
Vy^as likely to come on sooner than he expected, he had (lest 
he should not be in time) mounted his horse at Ballycarny, set 
off in the night, ridden nearly sixty miles up to the parliament- 



128 SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH PARLIAMENT. 

house direct, and rushed in, without washing or cleaning him- 
self, to vote for the country. He arrived just at the critical 
moment ! — and critical it was, for the numbers were in truth 
equal, and his casting-vote gave a majority of one to " the coun- 
try" party. 

This anecdote could not die while the Irish parliament lived ; 
and I recollect " Tottenham in his boots" remaining, down to 
a very late period, a standing toast at certain patriotic Irish 
tables. 

Being on the topic (and, I confess, to me it is still an interesting 
one), I must remark a singular practical distinction in the rules 
of the Irish and English houses of commons. In England, the 
house is cleared of strangers for every division, and no person 
is supposed to see or know in what way the representatives of 
the people exercise their trust. In Ireland, on the contrary, 
the divisions were public, and red and black lists were imme- 
diately published of the voters on every important occasion. 
The origin of this distinction I can not explain, but it must be 
owned that the Irish was the most constitutional practice. 

One interesting scene at which I was present merits especial 
description, on many accounts. No other instance of the kind 
has occurred in the British empire in my time ; and as it forms 
a very important record with relation to the independent po- 
litical state of Ireland at the period, and has not yet been 
made the subject of any historical detail or observation, it can 
not fail to be interesting in every point of view. I allude to 
the trial of a peer of the realm of Ireland for murder, by the 
house of lords in Dublin, after the acknowledgment of Irish 
independence. 

The grand and awful solemnity of that trial made a deep 
impression on my memory ; and, coupled with the recollection 
that it proclaimed indisputably the sovereignty of the Irish 
nation, its effect on a contemplative mind was of a penetrating 
nature. 

Robert, earl of Kingston, stood charged with the murder of 
Colonel Fitzgerald, by shooting him in his bedchamber. The 
relation of the circumstances of that event would be, in every 
point of view, improper, and would only serve to recall painful 



THE HOUSES OF PEERS AND COIVEMONS. 129 

recollections long since sunk into oblivion. I therefore abstain 
from any further allusion to them. Justice required the trial 
of the accused party at the bar of his peers : but as no similar 
case had occurred in Ireland within the memory of man, it 
was requisite to consult precedents upon the subject, in order 
to render his lordship's trial conformable to the lex parliamen- 
taria common to both countries. These precedents were ac- 
cordingly sought by the proper officers ; and as his lordship 
was very popular, and his provocation maddening — -and as all 
were ignorant of the evidence which was to be brought forward 
— the whole affair was of a most exciting nature to every man, 
more especially to those individuals who possessed the noble 
lord's acquaintance. 

Owing to the great number of attendants, the full muster of 
peers, and the extensive preparations of every kind necessary 
in order to adhere to precedent, the house of lords was sup- 
posed to be insufficiently large for the occasion. 

The Irish house of peers was considered one of the most 
beautiful and commodious chambers possible. It combined 
every appearance of dignity and comfort : the walls were cov- 
ered with tapestry, representing the battle of the Boyne, and 
the entire coup-d'ml was grand and interesting ; but being, as 
I have said, considered too smalT for all the purposes of the 
trial in question, the house of commons was made ready in 
preference. 

Whoever had seen the interior of the Irish house of com- 
mons must have admired it as one of the most chaste and clas- 
sic models of architecture. A perfect rotunda, with Ionic pilas- 
ters, enclosed a corridor which ran round the interior. The 
'cupola, of immense height, bestowed a magnificence which 
could rarely be surpassed ; while a gallery, supported by col- 
umns divided into compartments, and accommodating seven 
hundred spectators, commanded an uninterrupted view of the 
chamber. 

This gallery, on every important debate, was filled, not by . 
reporters, but by the superior orders of society — the first rows 
being generally occupied by ladies of fashion and rank, who 
diffused a brilliance over and excited a gallant decorum in that 

G* 



130 SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH TAELIAMENT. 

assembly wliich the Britisli house certainly does not appear 
very sedulously to cultivate. 

This fine chamber was now fitted up in such a way as to 
give it the most solemn aspect. One apartment of seats in the 
body of the house was covered with scarlet cloth, and appro- 
priated to the peeresses andtheir daughters, who ranged them- 
selves according to the table of precedence. The commons, 
their families and friends, lined the galleries : the whole house 
was superbly carpeted, and the speaker's chair newly adorned 
for the lord-chancellor. On the whole, it was by far the most 
impressive and majestic spectacle ever exhibited within those 
walls. 

At length the peers entered, according to their rank, in full 
dress, and richly robed. Each man took his seat in profound 
silence ; and even the ladies (which was rather extraordinary) 
were likewise still. The chancellor, bearing a white wand, 
having taken his chair, the most interesting moment of all was 
at hand, and its approach really made me shudder. 

Sir Chichester Fortescue, king-at-arms, in his parti-colored 
robe, entered first, carrying the armorial bearings of the ac- 
cused nobleman emblazoned on his shield : he placed himself 
on the left of the bar. Next entered Lord Kingston himself, 
in deep mourning, moving with a slow and melancholy step. 
His eyes were fixed on the ground ; and, walking up to the 
bar, he was placed next to the king-at-arms, who then held his 
armorial shield on a level with his shoulder. 

The supposed executioner then approached, bearing a large 
hatchet with an immense broad blade. It was> painted black, 
except within about two inches of the edge, which was of bright, 
polished steel. Placing himself at the bar on the right of the 
prisoner, he raised the hatchet about as high as his lordship's 
neck, but Avith the shining edge averted ; and thus he remained 
during the whole, of the trial. The forms, I understood, pre- 
scribed that the shining. edge should be averted until the pro- 
nouncing of judgment, when, if it Avere unfavorable, the blade 
was instantly to be turned by the executioner toicard the pris- 
oner, indicating at once his sentence and his fate. 

I could not reconcile my mind to the thought of such a con- 



TEIAL OF THE EAIiL OF KINGSTON. 131 

summation. I knew tlie late Lord Kingston, and had a liigh. 
regard for liini ; and hence I felt a very uneasy sensation, in- 
asmuch as I was profoundly ignorant of what w^ould be the 
termination of the awful scene. 

The usual legal ceremonies Avere now entered on : the charge 
was read- — the prisoner pleaded not guilty — and the trial pro- 
ceeded. A proclamation was made (first generally, then name 
by name) for the witnesses for the prosecution to come forward. 
It is not easy tc describe the anxiety and suspense excited as 
each name was called over. The eyes of everybody Vv^ere 
directed to the bar where the Avitnesses must enter, and every 
little movement of the persons who thronged it was held to be 
intended to make room for some accuser. ISTone, however, ap- 
peared : thrice they were called, but in vain. And it was then 
anno^iced that " no witnesses appearing to substantiate the 
charge of murder against Robert, earl of Kingston, the trial 
should terminate in the accustomed manner." The chancellor 
proceeded to put the question ; and every peer, according to 
his rank, arose and deliberatelv walkinjf bv the chair in which 
the chancellor was seated, placed his hand as he passed solemnly 
on his heart, and repeated, '* Not guilty, upon my. honor !" 
(The bishops were, very properly, precluded from voting in 
these criminal cases.) After all had passed, which ceremony 
occupied an hour, the chanceller rose and declared the opinion 
of the peers of Ireland — ''That llobert, earl of Kingston, was 
not guilty of the charge against him." His lordship then broke 
his wand, descended from his chair, and thus ended the trial — 
most interesting because it had at once a strong political and 
constitutional bearing, and affected a nobleman universally 
beloved. The result was highly satisfactory to every one 
who had learned the circumstance which led to the fatal event 
for which the earl of Kingston was arraigned ; whose conduct, 
though strictly justifiable neither in law nor morality, might 
have been adopted by the best of men under similar provoca- 
tion. 



132 THE SEYEN BAKONETS. 



THE SEVEN BARONETS. 

Sir John Shiart Hamilton — Sir Richard IMusgrave — Sir Edward Newnham — Sir Vesey Col- 
clough — Sir Fredericlt Flood — Sir John Blacquiere — Sir Boyle Roche : his curious Bulls 
— Their Characters and Personal Description — Anecdotes and Bon-mots — Anecdote of 
the Marquis of Waterford. 

• 

Among those parliamentary gentlemen frequently to be 
found in the coffee-room of tlie house, were certain haronets of 
very singular character, who, until some division called them 
to vote, passed the intermediate time in high conviviality. Sir 
John Stuart Hamilton, a man of small fortune and large stat- 
ure, possessing a most liberal appetite for both solids and- fluids 
— much wit, more humor, and indefatigable cheerfulness — 
might be regarded as their leader. 

Sir Richard Musgrave, who (except on the abstract topics of 
politics, religion, martial law, his wife, the pope, the pretender, 
the Jesuits, Napper Tandy, and the whipping-post) was gener- 
ally in his senses, formed, during those intervals, a very enter- 
taining addition to the company. 

Sir Edward Newnham, member for Dublin county, afforded 
a whimsical variety of the affectation of early and exclusive 
transatlantic intelligence. By repeatedly writing letters of 
congratulation, he had at length extorted a reply from General 
Washington, which he exhibited upon every occasion, giving 
it to be understood, by significant nods, that he knew vastly 
more than he thought proper to communicate. 

Sir Vesey Colclough, member for County Wexford, who un- 
derstood books and wine better than any of the party, had all 
his days treated money so extremely ill, that it would continue 
no longer in his service ! — and the dross (as he termed it) hav- 
ing entirely forsaken him, he hequeathed an immense landed 
property, during his life, to the uses of custodiums, digits, and 
judgments, which never fail to place a gentleman's acres un- 
der the special guardianship of the attorneys. He was fa- 
ther to that excellent man, John Colclough, who was killed at 



SIR FEEDEEICK FLOOD. 133 

Wexford, and to the present Caesar Colclough, whose fall might 
probablj have afforded rather less cause of regret. 

Sir Vesey added much to the pleasantry of the party hy oc- 
casionally forcing on them deep subjects of literature, of which 
few of his companions could make either head or tail : hut to 
avoid the hnputation of ignorance, they often gave the most 
ludicrous proofs of it on literary subjects, geography, and as- 
tronomy, with which he eternally bored them. 

Sir Frederick Flood, also member for County Wexford, whose 
exhibitions in the imperial parliament have made him tolera- 
bly well known in England, was very different in his habits 
from the last-mentioned baronet ; his love of money and spirit 
of ostentation never losing their hold throughout every action 
of his life. He was but a second-rate blunderer in Ireland. 
The^ulls of Sir Boyl-e Roche (of whom we shall speak here- 
aftei^lpfenerally involved aphorisms of sound sense, while Sir 
Frederick's, on the other hand, possessed the qualification of 
being pure nonsense ! 

He was a pretty, dapper man, very good-tempered ; and had 
a droll habit, of which he could never effectually break him- 
self (at least in Ireland) : whenever a person at his back whis- 
pered or suggested anything to him while he was speaking in 
public, without a moment's reflection he almost always invol- 
untarily repeated the suggestion literatim. 

Sir Frederick was once making a long speech in the Irish 
parliament, lauding the transcendent merits of the Wexford 
magistracy, on a motion for extending the criminal jurisdiction 
in that county, to keep down the disaffected. As he was clo- 
sing a most turgid oration, by declaring that " the said magis- 
tracy ought to receive some signal mark of the lord-lieutenant's 
favor" — John Egan, who was rather mellow, and sitting be- 
hind him, jocularly whispered, "And be whipped at the cart's 
tail."— -"And be whipped at the cart's tail!" repeated Sir 
Frederick unconsciously, amid peals of the most uncontrollable 
laughter. 

Sir John Blacquiere flew at higher game than the other bar- 
onets, though he occasionally fell into the trammels of Sir John 
Hamilton. Sir John Blacquiere was a little deaf of one ear, 



134 THE SEVEN BARONETS. 

for wliicli circumstance lie -gave a very singular reason. His 
seat, wlien secretary, was the outside one on the treasury-bench, 
next to a gangway; and he said that so many members used 
to come perpetually to whisper to him — and the buzz of im- 
portunity Avas so heavy and continuous, that before one claim- 
ant's words had got out of his ear, the demand of another 
forced its way in, till the ear-drum, being overcharged, abso- 
lutely burst ! — which, he said, turned out conveniently enough, 
as he was then obliged to stuff the organ tight, and tell every 
gentleman that his physician had directed him not to use that 
ear at all, and the other as little as possible ! 

Sir John Stuart Hamilton played him one day, in the corri- 
dor of the house of commons, a trick which was a source of 
great entertainment to all parties. Joseph Hughes,- a country 
farmer and neighbor of Sir John Stuart Hamilton, who knew 
nothing of great men, and (in common with many remote far- 
mers of that j)eriod) had very seldom been in Dublin, was hard 
pressed to raise some money to pay the fine on a renewal of a 
bishop's lease — his -only property. He came directly to Sir 
John, who I believe, had himself drunk the farmer's spring 
pretty dry, while he could get anything out of it. As they 
were standing together in one of the corridors of the parlia- 
ment-house. Sir John Blacquiere stopped to say something to 
his brother baronet : his star, which he frequently wore on 
rather shabby coats, struck the farmer's eye, who had never 
seen such a thing before ; and coupling it with the very black 
visage of the wearer, and his peculiar appearance altogether, 
our rustic was induced- humbly to ask Sir John Hamilton, " who 
that man was with the silver sign on his coat?" 

"Don't you know him?" cried Sir John; "why, that is a fa- 
mous Jew money-broker." 

" May be, please your honor, he could do my little business 
for me," responded the honest farmer. 

"Trial's all !" said Sir John. 

"I'll pay well," observed Joseph. 

" That's precisely what he likes," replied the baronet. 

"Pray, Sir John," continued the farmer, "what's those words 
on his si§7t .?" (alluding to the motto on the star). 



SIR JOHN BLACQriERE. 135 

"Oil," ansTrered tlie other, "tliey are Latin, * Tria juncta in 
uuo.' " 

"And may I crave the English thereof?" asked the unsus- 
pecting countryman. 

" Three in a bond," said Sir John. 

" Then I can match him, by J — s," exclaimed Hughes. 

"You'll be hard set," cried the malicious baronet ; "however, 
you may try." 

Hughes then approaching Blacquiere, who had removed but 
a very small space, told him with great civility and a significant 
nod, that he had a little matter to mention, which he trusted 
would be agreeable to both parties. Blacquiere drew him aside 
and desired him to proceed. " To come to the point then at 
once," said Hughes, "the money is not to say a great deal, 
and I can give you three in a bond — myself and two good 
men as any in Cavan, along with me, I hope that will answer 
you. Three in a bond ! safe good men." 

Sir John, who wanted a supply himiself, had the day before 
sent to a person who had advertised the lending of money; 
and, on hearing the ahove harangue (taking for granted that 
it resulted from his own application), he civilly assured Hughes 
that a bond would be of no use to him ! good bills might be 
negotiated, or securities turned into cash, though at a loss, but 
honds would not ansv.^er at all. 

" I think I can get another man, and that's one more than 
your sign requires," said Hughes. 

"I tell you," repeated Sir John, "bonds will not answer at 
all, sir! — bills, bills!" 

"Then it's fitter," retorted the incensed farmer, "for you to 
be after putting your sign there in your pocket, than wearing 
it to deceive the Christians, you damned usurer ! you Jew 
you!" 

K^obody could be more amused by this denouement than Blac-' 
quiere himself, who told everybody he knew, of " Hamilton's 
trick upon the countryman^ 

Sir Richard Musgrave, although he understood drawing the 
long hoiv as well as most people, never patronised it in any 
other individual. Sir John Hamilton did not spare the exer- 



136 THE SEVEN BAEONETS. 

cise of this accomplisliment in telling a story, one day, in tlie 
presence of Sir Richard, Avho declared his incredulity rather 
abruptly, as indeed was his constant manner. Sir John was 
much nettled at the mode in which the other dissented, more 
particularly as there were some strangers present. He assev- 
erated the truth on his icord .- Sir Richard, however, repeating 
his disbelief. Sir John Hamilton furiously exclaimed — "You 
say you don't believe my word !" 

*' I carCt believe it," replied Sir Richard. 

"Well, then," said Sir John, "if you won't believe vaj wordy 
by G — d I'll give it you under my hand,^^ clenching at the 
same moment his great list. 

The witticism raised a general laugh, in which the parties 
themselves joined, and in a moment all was good humor. 
But the company G^bndemned both the offenders — Sir John for 
telling a lie, and Sir Richard for not believing it, to the pay- 
ment of two bottles of hock, each. 

Whoever the following story may be fathered on, Sir John 
Hamilton was certainly its parent. The duke of Rutland, at 
one of his levees, being at a loss (as probably most kings, 
princes, and viceroys occasionally are) for something to say to 
every person he was bound in etiquette to notice, remarked to 
Sir John Hamilton that there was " a prospect of an excellent 
crop ; the timely rain," observed the duke, " will bring every- 
thing above ground." 

" God forbid, your excellency !" exclaimed the courtier. 

His excellency stared, while Sir Johij,^ontinued, sighing 
heavily as he spoke ; " Yes, God forbid pfor I have got three 
wives under." 

At one of those large convivial parties which distinguished 
the table of Major Hobart, when he was secretary in Ireland, 
among the usual loyal toasts, " The wooden walls of England" 
being given. Sir John Hamilton,' in his turn, gave " The wood- 
en walls of Ireland !" This toast being quite new to us all, 
he was asked for an explanation : upon which, filling up a 
bumper, he very gravely stood up, and, bowing to the mar- 
quis of Waterford and several country-gentlemen, who com- 
manded county regiments, he said, " My lords and gentlemen 1 



SIR BOYLE ROCHE. 137 

I have tlie pleasure of giving you * Tlie wooden walls of Ire- 
land' — tlie colonels of militia /" 

So broad but so good-bumored a jeu d^es-prit, excited great 
merriment; tbe truth \^?iB forgotten in tbe jocularity, but tbe 
epitbet did not perish. I saw only one grave countenance in 
the room, and that belonged to the late marquis of Waterford, 
who was the proudest egotist I ever met with. He had a tre- 
mendous squint, nor was there anything prepossessing in the 
residue of his features to atone for that deformity. Nothing 
can better exemplify his lordship's opinion of himself and oth- 
ers, than an observation I heard him make at Lord Portarling- 
ton's table. Having occasion for a sujperJatixe degree of corri- 
parison between two persons, he was at a loss for a climax. 
At length, however, he luckily hit on one.. " That man was," 
said the marquis, "he was as superior as — ^ — as — I am to 
LordEanelah!" 

I will now advert to Sir Boyle Roche, who certainly was, 
without exception, the most celebrated and entertaining anti- 
grammarian in the Irish parliament. I knew him intimately. 
He was of a very respectable Irish family, and in point of ap- 
pearance, a fine, bluff, soldier-like old gentleman. He had 
numerous good qualities ; and having been long in the army, 
his ideas were full of honor and etiquette — of discipline and 
bravery. He had a claim to the title of Fermoy, which, how- 
ever, he never pursued ; and was brother to the famous Tiger 
Roche, who fought some desperate duel abroad, and was near 
being hanged for it. Sir Boyle was perfectly well bred in all 
his habits ; had been appointed gentleman-usher at the Irish 
court, and executed the duties of that office to the day of 
his death, with the utmost satisfaction to himself, as well as to 
every one in connection with him. He was married to the 
eldest daughter of Sir John Cave, Bart. ; and his lady, who 
was a " bas bleu," prematurely injured Sir Boyle's capacity 
(it was said) by forcing him to read "■ Gibbon's Rise and Fall 
of the Roman Empire," whereat he was. so cruelly puzzled 
without being in the least amused, that in his cups, he often 
stigmatized the great historian as a low fellow, who ought to 
have been kicked out of company wherever he was, for turn- 



138 TfljE SEVEN BARONETS. 

ing people's tliouglits away from their prayers and their politics 
to what the devil himself could make neither head nor tail of. 

His perpetually bragging that Sir John Cave had given him 
his eldest daughter, afforded Curran an opportunity of reply- 
ing, " Ay, Sir Boyle, and depend on it, if he had had an older 
one still he would have given her to you." Sir Boyle thought 
it best to receive the repartee as a compliment, lest it should 
come to her ladyship's ears, who, for several years back, had 
prohibited Sir Boyle from all allusions to chronology. 

This baronet had certainly one great advantage over all 
other bull and blunder makers : he seldom launched a blunder 
from which some fine aphorism or maxim miight not be easily 
extracted. When a debate arose in the Irish house of com- 
mons on the vote of a grant which was recommended by Sir 
John Parnel, chancellor of the exchequer, as one not likely to 
be felt burdensome for many years to come — it was observed 
in reply, that the house had no just right to load posterity with a 
weighty debt for what could in no degree operate to their advan- 
tage. Sir Boyle eager to defend the measures of government, 
i«imediately rose, and in a few words, ]3nt forward the most 
una;nswerable argument which human ingenuity could possibly 
devise. "What, Mr. Speaker!" said he, " and so we are to 
beggar ourselves for fear of vexing posterity ! Now, I would 
ask the honorable gentleman, and this still more honorable 
house, why we should put ourselves out of our way to do any- 
thing for j>osterity : for what has j^osterity done for tis V 

Sir Boyle, hearing the roar of laughter which of course fol- 
lowed this sensible blunder, but not being conscious that he 
had said anything out of the way, was rather puzzled, and 
conceived that the house had misunderstood him. He there- 
fore begged leave to explain, as he apprehended that gentle- 
men had entirely mistaken his words : he assured the house 
that " by ^o^/^en/y, he did not at all mean qwx ancestor s^^vX 
those who were to come immediately after tliem.^^ Upon hear- 
ing this explanation, it was impossible to do any serious business 
for half an hour. 

Sir Boyle Hoche was induced by government to fight as 
hard as possible for the union : so he did, and I really believe 



SIR botle's cueiotjs bulls. 139 

fancied, by degrees, tHat he was riglit. On one occasion, a 
general titter arose at his florid picture of the happiness which 
must proceed from this event. '' Gentlemen," said Sir Boyle, 
*' may titther, and titther, and titther, and may think it a bad 
measure ; but their heads at present are hot, and will so remain 
till they grow cool again ; and so they can't decide right now ; 
but when the da?/ of judgment comes, then honorable gentlemen 
will be satisfied at this most excellent union. Sir, there is no 
Levitical degrees between nations, and on this occasion I can 
see neither sin nor shame in marrying our own sister T 

He was a determined enemy to the French Revolution, and 
seldom rose in the house for several years without volunteering 
some abuse of it. "Mr. Speaker," said he, in a mood of this 
kind, " if we once permitted the villanous French masons to 
meddle with the buttresses and walls of our ancient constitu- 
tion, they would never stop, nor stay, sir, till they brought the 
foundation-stones tumbling down about the ears of the nation ! 
There," continued Sir Boyle, placing his hand earnestly on 
his heart, his powdered head shaking in unison with his loyal 
zeal, while he described the probable consequences of an 
invasion of Ireland by the French republicans ; " There, Mr. 
Speaker ! if those Grallician villains should invade us, sir, 'tis 
on that very table, may-be, these honorable members might see 
their own destinies lying in heaps a-top of one another ! Here 
perhaps, sir, the murderous Marshallaiv-men (Marseillois) would 
break in, cut us to mince-meat, and throw our bleeding heads 
upon that table, to stare us in the face !" 

Sir Boyle, on another occasion, was arguing for the habeas 
corpus suspension bill in Ireland : "It would surely be better, 
Mr. Speaker," said he, "to give up not only a part, but, if 
necessary, even the whole, of our constitution, to preserve the 
remainder .^" 

This baronet having been one of the Irish parliamentary 
curiosities before the union, I have only exemplified his mode of 
blundering, as many ridiculous sayings have been attributed 
to him. He blundered certainly more than any public speaker 
in Ireland ; but his bulls were rather logical perversions, and 
had some strong point in most of them. 



140 THE SEVEN BAKONETS. 

The English people consider a bull as nothing more than 
a vulgar, nonsensical expression : but Irish blunders are fre- 
quently humorous hyperboles or oxymorons.^ and present very 
often the most energetic mode of expressing the speaker's 
meaning. 

On the motion to expel Lord Edward Fitzgerald from the 
house of commons, for hasty disrespectful expressions regarding 
the house and the lord-lieutenant, it was observable that the 
motion was violently supported by the younger men then in 
parliament, including the late marquis of Ormonde, &c. The 
marquis was, indeed, one of the strongest supporters of a meas- 
ure the object of which was to disgrace a young nobleman, his 
own equal : and it was likewise worthy of remark that the 
motion was resisted by the steadiest and oldest members of the 
house. 

Sir Boyle Roche labored hard and successfully for Lord 
Edward, who was eventually required to make an apology ; it 
was not, however, considered sufficiently ample or repentant. 
Sir Boyle was at his wit's end, and at length produced a nat- 
ural syllogism, which, by putting the house in good humor, 
did more than a host of reasoners could have achieved. " Mr. 
Speaker," said the baronet, *' I think the noble young man has 
no business to make any apology. He is a gentleman, and 
none such should be asked to make an apology, because no 
gentleman could mean to give offence J^ 

Dennis McCarthy, the postillion of Lord Lisle, had an action 
for crim. con. brought against him by his master, and upon a 
very forced construction of law in such cases, by the chief 
baron, the jury found damages for 665,000 against Dennis. He 
was of course sent to jail ; and damages to that amount, and of 
that nature, excluding the debtor from the benefit of the insol- 
vent act, strong efforts were made in parliament to have Den- 
nis included especially, by name, in the statute, he having 
remained ten years in close confinement. His liberation was 
constantly applied for, and as constantly rejected. Sir Boyle, 
as a last effort, made a florid speech in his best style on behalf 
of the poor fellow, arguing truly, that "Lady Lisle, and not 
Dennis, must have been the real seducer;" and concluding 



OFFEK OF OFFICE. 14:1 

thus : — " And what, Mr. Speaker, was this poor servant's crime 1 
after all, sure, Mr. Speaker, it was onlj doing 7iis master^s busi- 
ness by Ms Tnistress's orders : and is it not very hard to keep a 
poor servant in jail for that which, if he had not done he 
would have deserved a horsewhipping ?" This way of putting 
the case had the desired effect : Dennis's name was especially 
included by the commons ; but in the house of lords it was 
thrown out by Lord Clonmell, chief-justice, though two years 
had scarcely elapsed since his lordship himself had fought a 
duel with the late Lord Tyrawley for crim. con. with her lady- 
ship. 

Never was there a taore sensible blunder than the following. 
"We recommend it as a motto to gentlemen in the army. 
"The best way," said Sir Boyle, "to avoid danger, is to meet it 
plumbJ^ 



ENTRANCE INTO OFFICE. 

The Author first placod in OfRcp. by Lord Wesfmoreland — Made King's Counpel by Lord 
CIare^=— Jealou'^y of the Bar — Desf-ription of Kilkenny Ca-tle — Trial of the Earl of Or- 
monde for Outrage at Kilkenny — Acquitted — Author's Conduct — Distinguished and 
Libeial Present from the Earl of Ormonde to the Author, of a Gold Box, and Ms Subse- 
quent Letter. 

In December, 1793, the secretary, Lord Buckinghamshire, 
wrote to say that he wished to see me at the castle. I imme- 
diately attended, when he said, "Barrington, I am about to 
depart from Ireland : and," continued he, after my sincere 
expressions of regret, "as you have heretofore had nothing 
from us but convivial intercourse, it is just you should now 
have fare somewhat more substantial ; with the approbation 
of the lord-lieutenant, therefore, I have managed to secure for 
you a very handsome office — the ships' entries of the port of 
Dublin." 

At the name and nature of this office I rather demurred ; 
whereupon Lord Buckinghamshire smiled and said, " You have 
no objection to a good sinecure, I suppose, the emoluments 



14:2 ENTEANCE INTO OFFICE. 

payable every Sunday morning by the deputy ; the place was 
lately held by Mr. George Ponsonby, and is at this moment 
enjoyed by Serjeant Coppinger ; but I have negotiated to give 
him, his son, and his wife, an annuity of eight hundred pounds 
a year, to resign it to you." 

This, so far, was agreeable : but still professional advance- 
ment being the object next my heart, I neither felt nor looked 
totally satisfied. 

Lord B then said, "You are a grumbling fellow : but I 

anticipated your grumbling, and the lord-chancellor (Lord 
Clare) has consented to your being at the same time appointed 
one of the king's counsel, thus at once giving you a step over 
the heads of all your circuit seniors, except Sir Frederick 
Flood, who is not, I fancy, very formidable.'.' 

This arrangement altogether met my wishes. I hastened to 
Lords Westmoreland and Clare, to thank them most cordially; 
and the fifth year after becoming a barrister, I found myself 
at the head of my circuit, and high up in the official rank of 
my profession. Practice generally follows the fortunate : I 
was immediately considered as on the high-road of preferment ; 
the attorneys pursued me lik^ a flock of rooks ! and my busi- 
ness was quadrupled. 

I purchased a fine house in Merrion square, from Mr. Robert 
Johnson, then counsel to the revenue (afterward judge), who 
at that period felt himself going down hill, and here I launched 
into an absolute press of business ; perhaps justly acquiring 
thereby the jealousy of many of my seniors. This jealousy, 
however, gave rise to one of the most gratifying incidents of 
my life. 

John, earl of Ormonde, resided, like a true Irish nobleman, 
in the utmost splendor and hospitality in his fine ancient castle 
at Kilkenny. He scarcely ever went even to the Irish me- 
tropolis — his entire fortune being expended in his own city; 
whereby every shopkeeper and trader experienced the advan- 
tages of his lordship's residence. His establishment was am- 
ple — his table profuse — his friendship warm and unbounded. 
The very appearance of his castle (though only a portion of 
the old duke's) was still such as to remind the spectator of its 



KILKENNY CASTLE EARL OF OSMONDE. 143 

former magnificence. Proudly towering over the river Nore, 
from wliicli it vras separated only by tlie public walk, a high, 
and grand rampart on that side conveyed the idea at once of 
a palace and a fortress ; while toward the city an old princely 
portal, flanked by round towers, opened into a spacious court, 
within which were preserved two sides of the original edifice, 
and a third was, at the period I allude to, rebuilding in a style, 
however, far too modern and ordinary. The exterior mould- 
ings of the castle exhibited the remains of the gilding which 
had formerly been laid on with a lavish hand. 

The interior of this noble edifice, with the exception of one 
saloon and the picture-gallery, was not calculated to satisfy 
expectation : but both those were unique — the one with respect 
to its form, the other to its prospects. The grand saloon was 
not shaped like any other, I believe, existing, oval in its figure 
and not large ; but the wall, twelve feet thick, admitted of 
recesses on the sides, which had the appearance of small rooms, 
each being terminated by a large window, and the sides cov- 
ered with mirrors, which reflected the beautiful and varied 
prospects of city, country, wood, river, and public promenade. 
When I was at the castle, in fact, everything appeared to me 
delightful. 

Walter, the late marquis of Ormonde, though my junior in 
years, had been my intimate friend and companion ; as was 
also his cousin, Bryan Cavanagh. Lady Ormonde, mother of 
Walter, was the only child of Earl Winderford, and, as lady 
of the castle, was careful to keep up at least her due impor- 
tance. It is not impossible for women or men either to mistake 
pomposity for dignity. True pride is accompanied by an 
amiable condescension : cold, unbending ceremony is the 
result of false pride, and not of dignity. I thought (perhaps 
erroneously) that her ladyship made this mistake. 

The Earl John, my friend's father, was rather in the oppo- 
site extreme. He was w^ell read and friendly — a hard-goer 
(as it was called) and an incessant talker. His lordship occa- 
sionally adjourned to a kind of tavern in the city, of which a 
certain Avidow Madden was the hostess, and where one Mr. 
Evans, surnamed " Hellcat," together with the best boozers 



144: ENTEANCE INTO OFFICE. 

and other gentlemen of Kilkenny, assembled to amuse his 
lordship by their jests and warm punch, and to emulate each 
other in the devouring of oysters and lobsters — the best which 
could possibly be procured. Hither, in fact, the company from 
the castle were habituated often to repair. 

These boozing-matches sometimes proceeded rather too far ; 
and, one night Mr. Duffy, a sharp, smart, independent-minded 
apothecary of Kilkenny, who had offended the Ormonde family 
on some very sensitive point, being alluded to, a member of 
the party, with more zeal than prudence, proposed as a toast, 
'•a round of rascals!" taking care to designate Doctor Duffy 
as belonging to that honorable fraternity. On departing from 
the tavern, far more full of liquor than wit, some Avild young 
man in company suggested the demolition of .the doctor's win- 
dows : no sooner said than done ! the piper played, the stones 
flew, and Duffy's shivered panes bore ample testimony to the 
strength of the widow's beverage. No personal injury, how- 
ever, ensued, and the affair appeared to have terminated. 

A glazier was sent early next morning, by command of my 
lord, to repair the windows ; but this the doctor refused to al- 
low, and in due form applied for and obtained a criminal infor- 
mation in the king's bench for the outrage, against Lord Or- 
monde, his son Walter, James the present marquis. Lord 
Thurles, and others. The information was, in due legal form, 
sent down to be tried at the spring assizes, very soon after I 
had been appointed king's counsel. 

None felt more jealousy at my promotion than Mr. William 
Fletcher (since judge of the common pleas), many years my 
senior at the bar and on circuit. Lord Ormonde directed briefs 
to be sent to me and to Fletcher, with fees of fifteen guineas 
each. I never loved money much in my life, and therefore 
thought it quite enough ; or rather, I did not think about it. 

The defendant's case fell, of course, to me, as leading coun- 
sel. At this circumstance Fletcher felt sore and ran sulky — 
and the sulkier he got, the more zealous became I. We had 
but a bad case of it. The cross-examination of the irritated 
apothecary, who grew after a while quite ferocious, fell to my 
lot. I performed my duty, and it then devolved on Fletcher 



DEFENCE OF OKMONDE A TESTIMONIAL. 145 

to speak to the evidence. This, however, he declined. I 
pressed him, but be peremptorily refused. I exclaimed, " Nay, 
Fletcher, yon took a fee — why not speak?" — "Yes," an- 
swered the angry barrister, "just enough to make me hold my 
tongue!" — "Do speak," persisted I. "I 2co?i' t," re-plieS. he. 
" Then I must do it for you," was my rejoinder. My zeal was 
enkindled — my mind was on fire — and I felt myself in ear- 
nest and interested. I persevered till I saw the jury smile, 
for which purpose they only wantexi a good pretence. I held 
on my course till I saw them pleased ; and the result was, an 
acquittal of Lord Ormonde, and a conviction of all the others. 

To his lordship this acquittal was invaluable. The convic- 
tion of the earl of Ormonde for a nocturnal outrage in his own 
town, and his committal from his castle to a prison, to undergo 
the award of the law, would have been to him a source of the 
utmost dismay. I knew this, and acted accordingly. He had 
heard of the conversation between Fletcher and me ; but he 
thanked both without distinction, and made no partial remarks. 
I was hurt for a moment at this apparent neglect, but thought 
of it no longer, and his lordship never mentioned the circum- 
stance. 

On the ensuing summer assizes, Lord Ormonde invited the 
judges, barristers, several of the grand-jury, and the principal 
gentlemen of the county, to a magnificent dinner at the castle. 
It was a long table, and everything in the grandest style. A 
judge sat on each side of Lady Ormonde, at the head, and 
Fletcher and myself were their next neighbors. After the 
cloth had been removed, and Lady Ormonde was retired, his 
lordship stood up, and in a loud voice said : " I have waited 
with impatience for this public opportunity of expressing to 
Mr. Barrington the high sense I entertain of his important and 
disinterested services to me at the last assizes. I now beg his 
acceptance of a sm.all testimonial of my gratitude and friend- 
ship." And he immediately slid along the table a magnificent 
gold snuff-box, with his arms, &lc., and the following inscription : 

"A Token of Friendship and Gratitude from tlie Earl of Ormonde and 
OssoRY to Jonah Barrington, Esq., one of His Majesty's Counsel-at-Law. 
August, 1'794." 



146 ENTRANCE INTO OFFICE. 

I was utterly astonislied loy this distiiiguislied and most un- 
expected favor conferred in so public and honorable a manner ; 
and involimitarily, without a moment's thought (but certainly 
with the appearance of ill-nature), I triumpliantly handed round 
the box for the inspection of my brother-barristers. Fletcher, 
confused, as miglit be supposed, slightly shoved it back to me. 
His conduct on the trial having been known, a sensation be- 
came visible among the company, which I would almost have 
given up the box to have avoided exciting. His countenance, 
hovfcver, though not usually subject to be much impressed by 
kind feelings, clearly acquitted me of any intentional insult: 
in truth, I really felt as much as he did, when I perceived my 
error, and Avished to pocket the prize without its creating fur- 
ther notice. But this was impossible : I was obliged to return 
thanks, which ceremony I went through very badly. Fletcher 
did not remain long, and I also adjourned at an early hour to 
the bar-room, where the incident had preceded me. I now 
tried my best to put all parties into good-humor, and finished 
the night by a much deeper stoup of wine than I should have 
indulged in at Lord Ormonde's. 

Next morning I found a billet from the earl, enveloping a 
bank-note for one hundred pounds, with these words : — 

" Dear Sir : My attorney did not do you justice. You will 
permit me to be my own attorney on this occasion, 

" Your friend and humble servant, 

" Ormonde and Ossory." 

From that time to the day of his lordship's death, I experi- 
enced from him, on every occasion within his reach, the utmost 
extent of kindness, civility, and friendship. His successor, 
with whom I had been so long and so very intimately ac- 
quainted, was whirled at an early age into the vortex of fash- 
ionable life and profligacy. Having lost his best guide arid 
truest friend, his cousin Brian Cavanagh, many of his naturally 
fine qualities were either blunted by dissipation, or absorbed 
in the licentious influence of a fashionable connection. Thus 
he became lost to himself and to many of those friends who 
had most truly valued him. 



THE MAKQUIS OF OKMONDE. 147 

I have mentioned Walter, marquis of Ormonde, the more 
particularly, because, extraordinary as it may appear, it cer- 
tainly was to a fatal connection of his (where I am sare he 
had not been the seducer) that I owe several of the most pain- 
ful and injurious events of my life. Of the existence of this 
connection I had irrefragable proof; and of its having operated 
as a bar to the chief objects of my life and ambition, I have 
equal reason to feel convinced. 

His lordship married his own god-daughter, but too late to 
give a chance for reformation; and never have I remarked, 
through the course of a long, observing life, any progress more 
complete from the natural levities of youth to the confirmed 
habits of dissipation, from the first order of early talent to the 
humblest state of premature imbecility,' than that of the late 
marquis of Ormonde ! — who had, at one period of our intimacy, 
as engaging a person, as many maxily qualities, and to the full 
as much intellectual promise, as any young man of his country. 



DE. AOHMET BOEUMBOHAD. 

Singulr.r AnecHofps of Dr. Achmet Borumborad — He proposes to erect Baths in Dublin, m 
the Turkish Fashion — OI)tains Gifints tVoni Pnili;iment lor that I'urpose — The Baths well 
executed — Th<' Ductoi-.s Banquet — l,udicrous Aufcdote ol' Ninc^teeii Notili-tnen and Mem- 
bers vf I'iirliamiiit (ailing into his Ginn(1 Salt-VVater Bath — The Accideat n^■arly causes 
the Ruin of th^> Doctor and his Establishment— H-; falls in Love with Miss Hartigan, and 
marries her — Sudden Metamorphosis of the Turk into Mr. Patrick Joyce. 

Until England dragged the sister-kingd#m with herself into 
the ruinous expenses of the American war, Ireland owed no 
'public debt. There were no taxes, save local ones : the par- 
liament, being composed of resident gentlemen, interested in 
the prosperity and welfare of their country, was profuse in pro- 
moting all useful schemes ; and no projector, who could shoAv 
any reasonable grounds for seeking assistance, had difficulty 
in finding a patron. On these points, indeed, the gentlemen 
who possessed influence were often unguarded, and sometimes 
extravagant. 

Among other projectors whose ingenuity was excited by this 

/ 



148 DR. ACHMET BORUMBORAD. 

liberal conduct, was one of a very singular description — a Turk 
who liad come over, or (as the 07idit went) had Jled from Con- 
stantinople. He proposed to establish, what was greatly wanted 
at that time in the Irish metropolis, ** hot and cold sea-water 
baths ;" and by way of advancing his pretensions to public en- 
couragement, offered to open free baths for the poor, on an ex- 
tensive plan — giving them, as a doctor, attendance and advice 
gratis, every day in the year. He spoke English very intelli- 
gibly. His person was extremely remarkable ; and the more 
so, as he was the first Turk who had ever walked the streets 
of Dublin in his native costume. He was in height considera- 
bly above six feet, rather pompous in his gait, and apparently 
powerful ; an immense black beard covering his chin and up- 
per lip. There was, at the same time, something cheerful and 
cordial in the man's address ; and altogether he cut a very 
imposing figure. Everybody liked Doctor Achmet Borumbo- 
rad : his Turkish dress, being extremely handsome, without 
any approach to the taAvdry, and crowned with an immense 
turban, drew the eyes of every passer-by ; and I must say that 
I have never myself seen a more stately-looking Turk since 
that period. 

The eccentricity of the doctor's appearance was, indeed, as 
will be readily imagined, the occasion of much idle observation 
and conjecture. At first, whenever he went abroad, a crowd 
of people, chiefly boys, was sure to attend him — but at a re- 
spectful distance ; and if he turned to look behind him, the 
gaping boobies fled, as if they conceived even his looks to I e 
mortal. These fe%^'s, however, gradually wore away, and were 
entirely shaken ofl", on the fact being made public that l:e 
meant to attend the poor : which undertaking was, in the usr.;;l 
spirit of exaggeration, soon construed into an engagement en 
the part of the doctor to cure all disorders wJiatever ! and hence 
he quickly became as much admired and respected as he had 
previously been dreaded. 

My fair readers will perhaps smile when I assuse them thnt 
the persons who seemed to have the least apprehension of Doc- 
tor Borumborad, or rather to think him "a very nice Turk!"* 
were the ladies of the metropolis. Many a smart, snug little 



TTTEKISH BATHS IN DL-BLIN. 149 

husband, who had been heretofore considered " quite the thing" 
— despotic in his own house, and peremptory commandant of 
his own family — was now regarded as a wretched, contempti- 
ble, close-shaven pigmy, in comparison with the immensity of 
the doctor's figure and whiskers ; and, what is more extraordi- 
nary, his good-humor and engaging manners gained him many 
friends even among the husbands themselves! — he thus be- 
coming, in a shorter period than could be imagined, a particu- 
lar favorite with the entire city, male and female. 

Doctor Achmet Borumborad, having obtained footing thus 
far, next succeeded surprisingly in making his way among the 
members of parliament. He was full of conversation, yet knew 
his proper distance ; pregnant with anecdote, but discreet in 
its expenditure ; and he had the peculiar talent of being hum- 
ble without the appearance of humility. A submissive Turk 
would have been out of character, and a haughty one excluded 
from society. The doctor was aware of this, and regulated his 
demeanor with remarkable skill upon every occasion (and they 
were numerous) whereon (as a lion) he was invited to the tables 
of the great. By this line of conduct, he managed to warm 
those who patronized him into becoming violent partisans ; and, 
accordingly, little or no difficulty was experienced in getting a 
grant from parliament for a sufficient fund to commence his 
great metropolitan undertaking. 

Baths were now planned after Turkish models. The money 
voted was most faithfully appropriated ; and a more ingenious 
or useful establishment could not be formed in any metropolis. 
But the cash, it was soon discovered, ran too short to enable 
the doctor to complete his scheme ; and on the ensuing session 
a further vote became necessary, which was by no means op- 
posed, as the institution was good, fairly executed, and chari- 
tably applied. The worthy doctor kept his ground ; session 
after session he petitioned for fresh assistance, and never met 
with refusal. His profits were good, and he lived well, while 
the baths proved of the utmost benefit, and the poor received 
attention and service from his establishment without cost. An 
immense cold bath was constructed, to communicate with the 
river : it was large and deep, and entirely renevred every tide. 



350 DR. ACHMET BORHMBORAD. 

The neatest lodging-rooms, for tliose patients who chose to re- 
main during a course of bathing, were added to the establish- 
ment, and always occupied. In short, the whole affair became 
so popular, and Doctor Achmet acquired so many friends, that 
the annual grants of parliament were considered nearly as mat- 
ters of course. 

But, alas ! fortune is treacherous, and prosperity unstable. 
While the ingenious Borumborad was thus rapidly flourishing, 
an unlucky though most ludicrous incident threw the poor fel- 
low completely aback, and, without any fault on his part, nearly 
ruined both himself and his institution. 

Preparatory to every session, it was the doctor's invariable 
custom to give a grand dinner, at the baths, to a large number 
of his patrons, members of parliament, who were 'in the habit 
of proposing and supporting his grants. He always, on these 
occasions, procured some professional singers, as well as the 
finest wines in Ireland ; endeavoring to render the parties as 
joyous and convivial as possible. Some nobleman, or com- 
moner of note, always acted for him as chairman, the doctor 
himself being quite unassuming. 

At the last commencement of a session, whereupon he anti- 
cipated this patronage, it was intended to increase his grant, 
in order to meet the expenses of certain new works, &c., which 
he had executed on the strength of the ensuing supply ; and 
the doctor had invited nearly thirty of the leading members 
to a grand dinner in his spacious saloon. The singers were of 
the first order ; the claret and champagne excellent ; and never 
was the Turk's hospitality shown off to better advantage, or 
the appetites of his guests administered to with greater success. 
The effects of the wine, as usual on all such meetings in Ire- 
land, began to grow obvious. The elder and more discreet 
members were for adjourning ; while the juveniles declared 
they would stay for another dozen ! — and Doctor Borumborad 
accordingly Avent down himself to his cellar, to select and send 
up a choice dozen by way of bonne bouche iox finishing the re- 
fractory members of parliament. 

In his absence. Sir John Stuart Hamilton, though a very di-y 
member, took it into his head that he had taken enough, and 



THE SWIMMING-iMATCH. J 51 

rose to go away, as is customary in tliese days of freedom wlieiL 
people are so circumstanced : but at th^t period men were not 
always their own masters on sucli occasions, and a general cry 
arose of — "Stop, Sir Jolin ! — stop him! — the honne bouche ! 
the honne houclie /" The carousers were on the alert instantly. 
Sir John opened the door and rushed out ; the ante-chamber 
was not lighted ; some one or two-and-twenty stanch members 
stuck to his skirts ; when splash at once comes Sir John, not 
into the street, but into the great cold hath, the door of which 
he had retreated by, in mistake ! The other parliament-men 
were too close upon the baronet to stop short (like the horse of 
a Cossack) : in they went, by fours and fives ; and one or two, 
who, hearing the splashing of the water, cunningly threw them- 
selves down on the brink to avoid popping in, operated directly 
as stumbling-blocks to those behind, who thus obtained their 
full share of honne houcJie none of the parties had bargained for. 

When Doctor Borumborad re-entered, ushering a couple of 
servants laden with a dozen of his best wine, and missed all 
his company, he thought some devil had carried them off; but 
perceiving the door of his noble, deep, cold, salt-water bath 
open, he with dismay rushed thither, and espied eighteen or 
nineteen Irish parliament-men either floating like so many 
corks upon the surface, or scrambling to get out like mice who 
had fallen into a basin ! The doctor's jposse of attendants were 
immediately set at work, and every one of the honorable mem- 
bers extricated. The quantity of salt water, however, Mdiich 
had made its way into their stomachs, was not so easily re- 
moved, and most of them carried the beverage home to their 
own bedchambers. 

It was unlucky, also, that as the doctor was a Turk, he had 
no Christian wardrobe to substitute for the well-soaked gar- 
ments of the honorable members. Such dresses, however, as 
he had, were speedily put into requisition ; the bathing-attend- 
ants furnished their quota of dry apparel ; and all was speedily 
distributed among the swimmers, some of whom exhibited in 
Turkish costume, others in bathing-shifts ; and when the clothes 
failed, blankets were pinned round the rest. Large fires were 
made in every room ; brandy and mulled wine liberally resorted 



152 DE. ACIIMET BOEUMBOEAD. 

to ; and as fast as sedan-chairs could be procured, the Irish 
commoners were sent home, cursing all Turks and infidels, and 
denouncing a crusade against anything coming from the same 
quarter of the globe as Constantinople ! 

Poor Doctor Achmet Borumborad was distracted and quite 
inconsolable ! Next day he duly visited every suffering mem- 
ber, and though well received, was acute enough to see that the 
ridicule with which they had covered themselves, was likely 
to work out eventually his ruin. His anticipations were well- 
founded : though the members sought to hush up the ridiculous 
parts of the story, they became, from that very attempt, still 
more celebrated. In fact, it was too good a joke to escape the 
embellishments of Irish humor; and the statement universally 
circulated was, that ' - Doctor Borumborad had nearly drowned 
nineteen members of parliament, because they would not 
promise to vote for him !" 

The poor doctor was now assailed in every way. Among 
other things, it was asserted that he was the Turk who had 
strangled the Christians in the Seven Towers at Constantino- 
ple ! Though everybody laughed at tlieii- own inventions, they 
believed those of other people, and the conclusion, was, that no 
more grants could be proposed, since not a single member was 
Stout enough to mention the name of Borumborad ! the laugh, 
indeed, would have overwhelmed the best speech ever delivered 
in the Irish parliament. 

Still, the new works must be paid for, although no convenient 
vote came to make the necessary provision : the poor doctor 
was therefore cramped a little ; but notwithstanding his em- 
barrassment, he kept his ground well, and lost no private friends 
except such as the wearing off of novelty estranged. He con- 
tinued to get on, and at length a new circumstance intervened 
to restore liis happiness, in a way as little to be anticipated by 
the reader as was his previous discomfiture. 

Love had actually seized upon the Turk above two years 
before the accident we have been recording. A respectable 
surgeon of Dublin, of the name of Hartigan, had Avhat might 
be termed a very " neat" sister, and this lady had made a last- 
ing impression on the heart of Borumborad, Avho had no reason 



A SUDDEN METAMOEPHOSTS. 153 

to complain of his suit being treated with disdain or even in- ' 
difference. On the contrary, Miss H. liked the doctor vastly 
and praised the Turks in general, both for their dashing spirit 
and their beautiful whiskers. It was not, however, consistent 
either with her own or her brother's Christianity, to submit to 
the doctor's tremendous beard, or think of matrimony till " he 
had shaved the chin, at least, and got a parson to turn him into 
a Christian or something of that kind." Upon those terms 
only would she surrender her charms and her money — for- 
some she had — to Doctor Achmet Boramborad, however 
amiable. 

The doctor's courtship v>dth the members of parliament 
having now terminated, so far at any rate as farther grants 
were concerned, and a grant of a much more tender nature 
being now within his reach, he began seriously to consider if 
he should not at once capitulate to Miss H., and exchange his 
beard and his Alcoran for a razor and New Testament. After 
weighing matters deliberately, love prevailed, and he intimated 
by letter, in the proper vehemence of Asiatic passion, his de- 
termination to turn Christian, discard his beard, and, throwing 
himself at the feet of his beloved, vow eternal fidelity to her 
in the holy bands of matrimony. He concluded by requesting 
an interview in the presence of the young lady's confidant, a 
Miss Owen, who resided next door. His request was granted, 
and he repeated his proposal, which was duly accepted. Miss 
Hartigan stipulating that he should never see her again until 
the double promise in his letter was fully redeemed ; upon 
which he might mention his own day for the ceremony. The 
doctor having engaged to comply, took leave. 

On the evening of the same day, a gentleman was announced 
to the bride-elect, with a message from Doctor Achmet Borum- 
borad. Her confidential neighbor was immediately sinumoned, 
the gentleman waiting meantime in a coach at the door. At 
length Miss Hartigan and her friend being ready to receive 
him, in walked a Christian gallant, in a suit of full-dress black, 
and a very tall, fine-looking Christian he was ! Miss H. was 
surprised ; she did not recognise her lover, particularly as she 
thought it impossible he could have been made a Christian 



154: DE. ACHMET BOKCMBOEAD. 

before the ensuing Sunday. He immediately, however, fell on 
his knees, seized and kissed her lily hand, and on her beginning 
to expostulate, cried out at once, " Don't be angry, my dear 
creature! to tell the honest truth, I am as good a Christian as 
the archbishop ; I'm your own countryman, sure enough ! Mr. 
Patrick Joyce from Kilkenny county ; the devil a Turk, any 
more than yourself, my sweet angel !" The ladies were as- 
tonished, but astonishment did not prevent Miss Hartigan from 
keeping her "w^ord, and Mr. and Mrs. Joyce became a very 
lovely and happy couple. 

The doctor's great skill, however, was supposed to lie in his 
beard and faith ; consequently, on this denouement, the baths 
declined. But the honest fellow never had done any discredit- 
able or improper act ; none indeed was ever laid to his charge ; 
he fully performed every engagement with the parliament while 
he retained the power to do so. 

His beauty and portly appearance were considerably dimin- 
ished by his change of garb. The long beard and picturesque 
dress had been half the battle ; and he was, after his transfor- 
mation, but a plain, rather coarse, but still brave-looking fellow. 
An old memorandum-book reminded me of these circumstances, 
as it noted a payment made to him by me on behalf of my 
elder brother, who had been lodging in the bath-house at the 
time of the swimming maicJi. 

I regret that I never inquired as to Joyce'^s subsequent 
career, nor can I say whether he is or not still in the land of 
the living. This little story shows the facility with which 
public money was formerly voted, and at the same time the 
comparatively fortunate financial state of Ireland at that period, 
w^hen the public purse could afford a multiplicity of such sup- 
plies without any tax or imposition whatsoever being laid upon 
the people to provide for them ! How very different were the 
measures of that parliament even ten years afterward ! 



I^^STITUTION OF OEANGEMEN. 155 



ALDERMEN OF SKINNEES' ALLEY. 

The Institution of Oraneemen — United Irishmen — Protestant Ascendency — Dr. Duiaf'man 
— Origin, Pr02:rpss, and Customs of the Aldermen of Skiunern' Alley df'.scrii)ed — Their 
Revels — Orange Toast, never before pnhjished — The Aldermeii throw Mr. MMahon, an 
Apotherar}", out o^' a Window f';r Striking the Bust of King Williain — New A-sociation 
— Anecdotes of Sir John Bourke and Sir Francis Gould — The Pope's Bull of Absolution to 
Sir Francis G. — Its Delivery suspended till he had taken away his Landlady's Daughter 
—His Death. 

Orange societies, as tliey are termed, were first formed by 
tlie protestants to oppose and counteract tlie turbulent demon- 
strations of the catholics, who formed the population of the 
south of L-eland, But at their commencement, the Orangemen 
certainly adopted a principle of interference which was not 
confined to religious points alone, but went to put down all, 
popular insurrections which might arise on any point. The 
term jprotestant ascendency, was coined by Mr. John Gifford (of 
whom more hereafter), and became an epithet very fatal to the 
peace of L-eland. Many associations indeed were, from time 
to time, originated : some for reform, others to oppose it : some 
for toleration, others for intolerance! There were good men 
and loyal subjects among the members of each, including 
many who never entertained the most distant idea of those 
disastrous results to be apprehended, at the feverish period pre- 
ceding the revolution of 1798, from any encouragement to 
innovation. 

I followed up the principles my family had invariably pur- 
sued from their first settlement in Ireland ; namely, an attach- 
ment divided between the crown and the people. In the year 
1795, I saw that the people were likely to grow too strong for 
the crown; and therefore became at once, not indeed an ultra, 
but one in whom loyalty absorbed almost every other considera- 
tion. I willingly united in every effort to check the rising 
spirit of popular disaffection —-the dreadful results of which 
were manifested in the atrocities acting throughout France, and 
in the tottering state of the crowns of Europe. 

I had been previously initiated by my friend, Dr. Duigenan, 
judge of the prerogative court, into a very curious but most 



156 ALDERMEN OF SKINNERs' ALLEY. 

loyal societj, wliereof he was grand-master at tlie time of my 
election ; and as this club differed essentially from any other 
in the empire, it may he amusing to describe it — a labor which 
nobody has hitherto, I believe, undertaken. 

This curious assemblage was called " The Aldermen of Skin- 
ners' Alley :" it was the first Orange association ever formed ; 
and having, at the period alluded to, existed a full century in 
pristine vigor, it had acquired considerable local influence 
and importance. Its origin w^as as follows : after William 
III. had mounted the English throne, and King James had 
assumed the reins of government in Ireland, the latter mtrn- 
arch annulled the then existing charter of the Dublin corpo- 
ration, dismissed all the aldermen wdio had espoused the revo- 
lutionary cause, and replaced them by others' attached to 
himself. In doing this he v/as certainly justifiable ; the deposed 
aldermen, however, had secreted some little articles of their 
paraphernalia, and privately assembled in an ale-house in 
Skinners' alley, a very obscure part of the capital : here they 
continued to hold anti-Jacobite meetings ; elected their own 
lord-mayor and officers ; and got a marble bust of King Wil- 
liam, which they regarded as a sort of deity ! These meetings 
were carried on till the battle of the Boyne put William in 
possession of Dublin, when King James's aldermen were im- 
mediately cashiered, and the Aldermen of SJdnners^ Alley rein- 
vested with theii' mace and aldermanic glories. 

To honor the memory of their restorer, therefore, a peima- 
nent association was formed, and invested with all the memo- 
rials of their former disgrace and latter reinstatement. This 
organization, constituted near a century before, remained, I 
fancy, quite unaltered at the time I became a member. To 
make the general influence of this association the greater, 
the number of members was unlimited, and the mode of admis- 
sion solely by the proposal and seconding of tried aldermen. 
For the same reason, no class, however humble, was excluded 
— equality reigning in its most perfect state at the assemblies. 
Generals and wig-makers— king's counsel and hackney clerks, 
&c., all mingled Avithout distinction as brother-aldermen : a 
lord-mayor was annually appointed j and regularity and decomm 



THE OEAXGE TOAST. 157 

always prevailed — until, at least, toward tlie conclusion of tlie 
meetings, when tlie aldermen became more than nsually noisy 
and exhilarated — King William's bust being placed in the 
centre of the supper table, to overlook- their extreme loyalty. 
The times of meeting were monthly : and every member paid 
sixpence per month, vv^hich sum (allowing for the absentees) 
afforded plenty of eatables, porter and punch, for the supping 
aldermen. 

Their charter-dish was sJieep^s trotters (in allusion to King 
James's running away from Dublin) : rum-punch in blue jugs, 
whiskey-punch in white ones, and porter in its pewter,, were 
scattered plentifully over the table ; and all regular formali- 
ties being gone through, and the eating part of the ceremony 
ended, the real business began by a general chorus of " God 
save the King!" whereupon the grand engine, which, as a 
loyal and facetious shoemaker observed, would hind every sole 
of them together, and commemorate them all till the end of 
time, was set at work by order of the lord-mayor. This engine 
was the charter-toast, always given with nine times nine ! and 
duly succeeded by vociferous acclamations. 

The 1st of July (anniversary of the battle of the Boyne) 
was the favorite night of assembly: then every man unbut- 
toned the knees of his breeches, and drank the toast on his 
bare joints — it being pronounced by his lordsMp in the follow- 
ing words, composed expressly for the purpose in the year 
1689; afterward adopted by the Orange societies generally; 
and still, I believe, considered as the charter-toast of them all. 

This most ancient and unparalleled sentiment runs thus : — 

ORANGE TOAST. 

"The glorious — pious — and immortal memory of the great 
and good King William : not forgetting Oliver Cromwell, who 
assisted in redeeming us from popery, slavery, arbitrary power, 
brass-money, and wooden shoes. May we never want a Wil- 
liamite to kick the * * * * of a Jacobite! — and a * * * * for 
the bishop of Cork ! And he that won't drink this, whether 
he be priest, bishop, deacon, bellows-blower, grave-digger, or 
any other of the fraternity of the clergy ; may a north wind 



158 ALDEIiMEN OF SKINNEKs' ALLEY. 

blow liim to tlie south, and a west wind blow liim to the east ! 
May he have a dark night — a lee shore, a rank storm, and a 
leaky vessel, to carry him over the river Styx ! May the dog 
Cerberus make a meal of his r — p, and Plato a snuff-box of 
his skull; and may the devil jump down his throat with a red- 
hot harrow, with every pin tear out a gut, and blow him with 
a dean carcase to hell ! Amen. 

The extraordinary zeal wherewith this toast was drunk, 
could only be eq[ualled by the enthusiasm with which the blue 
and white jugs and pewter pots were resorted to, to ascertain 
the quality of the potation within : both processes serving to 
indicate the quantity of loyalty entertained by every alderman 
toward the king. Doctor Duigenan, and the protestant religion ! 
they then rebuttoned the knees of their breeches "(trousers had 
not come into fashion), and sat down to work again in down- 
right earnest. Mr. Powell, a jolly apothecary (till he was 
killed, by singing I suppose), led, in my time, the vocal band ; 
and after a dozen speeches, accompanied by numerous replen- 
ishments of the jugs, &c., everybody who had anything to do 
in the inorning generally withdrew, leaving the rest of the loy- 
alists to finish the last drop. 

The idea of " Orange societies" arose, in my opinion, from 
this association. I believe it exists still ; but has-, I understand, 
degenerated into a sort of half-mounted club — not exclusive 
enough for gentlemen, and too fine for wig-makers : it has sunk 
into a paltry and unimportant corporate utensil. 

I recollect an amusing circumstance which many years back 
occurred in this lodge. Until politics grew too hot, Napper 
Tandy and several other of the j^^^t^'^ots were aldei-men : but 
finding that ultra-loyalty was making way too fast for their 
notions, they sought some fair opportunity of seceding from the 
club, stealing the mace, and regenerating the whole board and 
establishment of Skinner's alley ! and the opportunity was not 
long wanting. 

An apothecary, by the name of M'Mahon, had become an 
alderman solely to avoid being considered a friend of the pope ; 
this, in point of reality, he was ; but since, at that period, his 
creed was not the popular one, he conceived that he might 



DOCTOR m'mAHOX, THE APOTHECAET. 159 

thrive better in liis business by appearing a stanch protes- 
tant ; or at least might learn by association, some valuable se- 
crets, and then betray them to his own sect. 

But M'Mahon, although a clever person, was, like many an 
honest fellow, vastly more candid when he got " the sup in" 
than he had ever intended to be ; indeed, in these circum- 
stances, whatever a man thinks often comes out in spite of him, 
as if it disagreed with his liquor ! Thus one unfortunate night, 
"Doctor M'Mahon, the apothecary" (as he was termed in 
Amiger street), having made too free with his brother-alder- 
men, and being completely overmastered by the blue jug, for- 
got his company, and began to speak rather unkindly of King 
William. His worthy associates, who had made similar appli- 
cations to the hlue and icliite, took fire at this sacrilege offered 
to their patron saint; one word brought on another; the doc- 
tor grew outrageous ; and, in his paroxysm (not having the fear 
of flogging before his eyes), actually damned, King William ! 
proceeding in the enthusiasm of his popery, most thoughtlessly 
for himself and for the unhappy king's bust then staring before 
him, to strike it with his huge fat fist plump in the face ! 

The bust immediately showed most evident and marvellous 
symptons of maltreatment by the apothecary ; its beautiful vir- 
gin white marble appearing to be actually stained with blood ! 
This miracle caused one of the aldermen to roar out in a fright, 
" That villain, M'Mahon, has broken the king's nose !" — " The 
king's nose ?" ran throughout the room : some, who had been 
dozing, hearing this cry of high treason from every quarter, 
rose and rushed with the rest upon the doctor : his clothes were 
soon turned into ribands, and the cry of" Throw him out of the 
"wdndow !" was unanimously and resolutely adopted : the window 
was opened ; the doctor, after exerting all his powers (and he was 
a strong, active man), was compelled to yield to numbers, and 
out he went into the street, very much to the ease and satis- 
faction of the loyal aldermen. The window was now closed 
again, the " Glorious Memory" drunk, the, king's nose washed 
clean from the blood, formerly belonging to the doctor's 
knuckles (which his majesty's feature had unmercifully scari- 
fied), and all restored t-o peace and tranquillity. 



160 ALDEKMEN OF SKIXNEEs' ALLEY. 

As for the poor doctor, out he went, as we have said, clean 
and cleverly, one good story. But (whether through chance 
or Providence we Avill not pretend to determine) fortunately 
for him, a lamp and lamp-iron stood immediately under the 
window whereby he had made so sudden an exit i Hence, the 
doctor's route downward was impeded by a crash against the 
lamp ; the glass and other materials all yielded to the precious 
w^eight, and very probably prevented the pavement from hav- 
ing the honor of braining him : he held a moment by the iron, 
and then dropped quite gently into the arms of a couple of guar- 
dians of the night, who, attracted by the uproar in the room 
above, and seeing the window open, and the doctor getting out 
feet foremost, conceived that it was only a drunken frolic, and so 
placed themselves underneath " to keep the gentleman out of 
the gutter." 

The doctor scarcely waited to thank his preservers, set out 
pretty well sobered to his home, and the next day, summoning 
all the humane and patriotic aldermen, to whom he told his 
own story, they determined to secede and set up a new corps 
at the King's Arms in Fowns' street. The old aldermen de- 
fended their conduct as loyal subjects ; the others stigmatized 
it as the act of a set of manslaughterers ; these old and young 
guards of the British constitution from that day set about ad- 
vertising each other, and making proselytes on either side ; and 
the Orange and United Irislmnen parties gained as many re- 
cruiting sergeants by the fracas, as there were permanents or 
seceders among those illustrious aldermen. 

As nothing is so much calculated to gratify the aldermen of 
Skinners' alley as anecdotes respecting his holiness the pope, 
or their eminences the cardinals, I am happy in being enabled 
to afford them one, of which I was an eye-witness. I had the 
honor of touching his holiness's bull to the late Sir Francis 
Gould (of gallant memory), and of seeing the beautiful candles 
therewith, six feet and an inch in their sockets : and if the 
saving clause in the bull should disappoint the aldermen, they 
must blame the caution of Cardinal Gonsalvi for having it in- 
serted (though I believe, a lay cardinal). I regret that at 
present I can furnish them with no other anecdotes of the kind, 



ANECDOTE OF SIE FRAXCIS GOULD. 161 

(at least ttat came witliin my own knowledge) ; hut the fol- 
lowing will serre excellently well to elucidate tlie pope's bulls 
of absolution. 

A few years since, tbe present Sir John Bourke, of Glinsk, 
Bart., travelled with his new-married lady and establishment 
to Rome, not solely for his pleasure, but as an Irish catholic, 
to pay his respects to the pope, kiss his holiness's toe, and pur- 
chase antiq^uities. 

The late Sir Francis Gould, then at Paris, requested Sir 
John (before me) that as he fancied he felt himself in a decli- 
ning state of health, and i^nable to travel so far as Rome, he 
(Sir John) would take the proper steps, through Cardinal G on- 
salvi, to procure him from his holiness a bull of plenary abso- 
lution, and if possible, an indulgence also ; adding that Sir 
John might 7imt to the cardinal, that he intended to bequeath 
a good deal of his property among the clergy. 

Sir John undertook the matter, proceeded to Rome, saw the 
cardinal, and, as far as the absolution went, succeeded. He 
was himself at the same time created "Marchese de Bourke of 
the Holy Roman Empire;" and a bull was duly made. out for 
Sir Francis Gould, at very considerable expense. Sir John 
received also a couple of blessed candles, six feet long, to burn 
while the bull was being read. Its express terms, and condi- 
tions, however were — "Provided the penitent, Sir Francis 
Gould, should not again voluntarily commit the same sins now 
forgiven ;" (which list included nearly all the sins the cardinal 
could think of!) in the other case, the forgiveness would be 
void, and the two sets of sins come slap upon the soul of Sir 
Francis at once, no doubt with compound interest ; and which 
iiothing but severe penance, some hundred full masses, and a 
great deal of mass-money, would ever be able to bring him 
through. 

Sir John having brought home the bull magnificently en- 
closed, and sewed up in a silk bag, sealed officially by the car- 
dinal, inform.ed Sir Francis (as we were all dining together at 
Bourke's hotel) that he had that day unpacked his luggage, 
had the pope's bull perfectly safe, and Avould hand it to him 
instantly. 



162 PEOCESSION OF THE TEADES. 

Sir Francis asked liim its exact purport. "I have had two 
others," said he, "but they are null, for I sinned again, and so 
can't depend upon them." 

Sir John informed him of the purport, so far as his Latin 
went ; Avhen Sir Francis calmly said, " My dear Bourke, don't 
give me the bull yet aicliile'; its operation, I find, is only retro- 
spective, and does not affect sins committed after its delivery ; 
why did you not bring me one that would answer always V 

" Such a one would cost a damned deal more," replied Sir 
John. 

"Well, then," said Sir Francis, "send it to me in about ten 
days or a fortnight — not sooner — it will answer then pretty 
well, as I am about taking away a beautiful young creature, 
my landlady's daughter, next week, and I should have that 
sin to answer for, if yoii gave me the bull before I had her 
clean out of Paris." 

He kept his word, took off the girl, then got the absolution ; 
and in a very short time, poor fellow ! was afforded, by death, 
an opportunity of trying its efficacy. 



PROCESSION OF THE TEADES. 

Dublin Corporation Anecdotes — Splendid Triennial Procession of the Dublin Corporation, 
Ciilled Friiigts (Franchises) described. 

Nothing can better show the high opinion entertained by 
the Irish of their own importance, and particularly by that 
celebrated body called the corporation of Dublin, than the 
following incident. Mr. Willis, a leather-breechesmaker in 
Dame street, and a famous orator at the corporation meetings, 
holding forth one day about the parochial watch (a subject 
which he considered as of the utmost general importance) 
discoursed as follows : " This, my friends, is a subject neither 
trifling nor obscure ; the character of our corporation is at stake 
on your decision! recollect," continued he, "recollect, brother 
freemen, that the eyes of all Eurojje are upon us /" 



GUILDS OF DUBLIN. 163 

One of the customs of Dublin which prevailed in my early 
days made such a strong impression upon my mind, that it 
never could be obliterated. The most magnificent and showy 
procession, I really believe, except those of Rome, then took 
place in the Irish metropolis every third year, and attracted a 
number of English quite surprising, if we take into account the 
great difEculty existing at that time with regard to travelling 
from London to Dublin. 

The corporation of the latter city were, by the terms of their 
charter, bound, once in three years, to perambulate the limits 
of the lord-mayor's jurisdiction, to make stands or stations at 
•various points, and to skirt the earl of Meath's liberties — a 
part of the city at that era in great prosperity, but forming a 
local jurisdiction of its own (in the nature of a manor), totally 
distinct from that of Dublin. 

This procession being in fact partly intended to mark and 
to designate the extreme boundaries of his lordship's jurisdic- 
tion, at those points where they touch the earl of Meath's 
liberty, the lord-mayor thrust his sword through the wall of a 
certain house, and then concluded the ceremony by approach- 
ing the sea at low water, and hurling a javelin as far upon the 
sands as his strength admitted, yhich was understood to form 
the boundary between him and Neptune. 

The trade of Dublin is comprised of twenty-five corporations, 
or guilds, each independent of the other, and represented, as 
in London, by a common council. Every one of these com- 
prised its masters, journeymen, and apprentices; and each 
guild had a patron-saint, or protector, whose image or emblem 
was on all great occasions dressed up in appropriate habili- 
ments. 

For this procession, every member of the twenty-five cor- 
porations prepared as for a jubilee. Small funds only were 
collected, and each individual gladly bore his extra charges 
— the masters and journeymxcn being desirous of outvying one 
another, and conceiving that the gayer they appeared on that 
great day, the more consideration would they be entitled to 
througliout the ensuing three years. Of course, therefore, such 
as could afford it spared no expense ; they borrowed the finest 



164: PROCESSION OF THE TRADES. 

horses and trappings wliich could be procured ; tlie masters 
rode, the journeymen walked, and Avere succeeded by tbe 
apprentices. 

Every corporation had an immense carriage, with a great 
platform and high canopy, the whole radiant with gilding, 
ribands, and draperies, and drawn by six or eight horses equally 
decked and caparisoned ; their colors and flags flying in all 
directions. On these platforms, which were fitted up as work- 
shops, were the implements of the respective trades, and expert 
hands were actually at work during the entire perambulation, 
which generally lasted eight or nine hours ; the procession 
indeed took two hours to pass. The narrow-weavers wove 
ribands which they threw to the spectators : the others tossed 
into the air small patterns of the fabric they worked upon ; the 
printers were employed in striking off innumerable hand-bills, 
with songs and odes to the lord-mayor. 

But the smiths' part of the spectacle was the most gaudy : 
they had their forge in full work, and were attended by a 
very high phseton adorned in every way they could think of, 
the horses covered with flowers and colored streamers. In 
this phaeton sat the most beautiful girl they could possibly 
procure, in the character of a jvife to their patron, Vulcan. It 
is unnecessary to describe her dress ; suffice it to say, it ap- 
proached that of a Venus as nearly as decency would permit : 
a blue scarf, covered with silver doves, was uaed at her discre- 
tion, and four or five little Cupids, attired like pages (aiming 
with bows and arrows at the ladies in the windows), j)layed at 
her feet. On one side rode, on the largest horse which could 
be provided, a huge fellow, representing Vulcan, dressed cap- 
a-jpie in coal-black armor, and flourishing an immense smith's 
sledge-hammer. On the other side pranced his rival. Mars, on 
a tawdry-caparisoned charger, in shining armor (with an im- 
mensity of feathers and horse-hair), and brandishing a two- 
edged glittering sword six or eight feet long — Venus meantime 
seemed to pay much more attention to her gallant than to her 
husband. Behind the phaeton, rode Argus, with an immense 
peacock's tail ; while numerous other gods and' goddesses, 
saints, devils, satyrs, &c., were distributed in the procession. 



TAILOKS OX HORSEBACK. 165 

The skinners and tanners seemed to undergo no slight pen- 
ance ; a considerable number of these artisans being dressed 
up close in sheep and goat skins of different colors. The 
representatives of the butchers were env-eloped in hides, with 
long towering horns, and rode along brandishing knives and 
cleavers — -a most formidable-looking corporation. The apoth- 
ecaries made up and distributed pills and boluses on their 
platform, which was furnished with numerous pestles and mor- 
tars so contrived as to sound, in the grinding, like bells, and 
pounding out some popular air. Each corporation had its 
appropriate band and colors ; perfect order was maintained ; 
and so proud was the Dublin m(fb of what they called their 
fringes, that on these peculiar occasions, they managed to 
behave with great decorum and propriety. I never could 
guess the reason why, but the crowd seemed ever in the most 
anxious expectation to see the tailors, who were certainly the 
favorites. The master-tailors usually borrowed the best horses 
from their customers ; and as they were not accustomed to 
horseback, the scene was highly ludicrous. A tailor on a 
spirited horse has always been esteemed a curiosity ; but a 
troop of a hundred and fifty tailors, all decked with ribands, 
and lace, and every species of finery, on horses equally smart, 
presented a spectacle outvying description. The journeymen 
and apprentices walked — except that number of workmen on 
the platform. St. Crispin with his last, St. Andrew with his 
cross, and St. Luke with his gridiron, were all included in the 
show ; as were the city officers in their full robes and parapher- 
nalia. The guild of merchants, being under the especial 
patronage of the Holy Trinity, could not, with all their inge- 
nuity, find out any unprofane emblem, except a shamrock of 
huge dimensions, the three distinct leaves whereof are on one 
stalk. This, by the way, offered St. Patrick means of explain- 
ing the Trinity, and thereby of converting the Irish to Chris- 
tianity ; and hence, the shamrock became the national emblem 
of Ireland. The merchants had also a large ship on wheels, 
drawn and manned by real sailors. 

This singular procession I twice witnessed. It has since 
been abolished, after having worked well, and done no harm, 



166 IRISH REBELLION. 

from the days of the very first lord-mayor of Dublin. The 
city authorities, however, began at length to think venison and 
claret would be better things for the same expense ; and so it 
was decided that the money should remain in the purse of the 
corporation, and a wretched substitute for the old ceremony 
was arranged. The lord-mayor and sheriffs, with some dozen 
of dirty constables, now perambulate these bounds in privacy 
and silence ; thus defeating, in my mind, the very intention of 
their charter, and taking away a triennial prospective object 
of great attraction and pride to the inhabitants of the metropo- 
lis of Ireland, for the sole purpose of gratifying the sensual 
appetites of a city aristocra*cy, who court satiety and indiges- 
tion at the expense of their humbler brethren. 



lEISH EEBELLIOK 

Rebpllion in Ireland, in T798 — Mr. Wfiddy's Castle — A Priest cnt in two by the Portcullis, 
. and partly eaten by Waddy — Dinner-Party at Lady Colclongh's-^Naines and Characters 
of the Company, including Mr. Ba<ienal Harvey, Captain Keogh. &c. — Mo.^t of them exe- 
cuted soon after — Tour through, and State of, County Wexford, after the Battles and 
Stormina: of the Town— Colonel Walpole killed and his Regiment defeated at Gorey — 
Unaccountable Circumstance of Captain Keogh's Head not decaying. 

Many incidents which, I really think, could not have oc- 
curred in any country except Ireland, took place there in the 
year 1798. There is something so very different from other 
people in every deed or word of the unsophisticated Irish, that 
in fact one has no right to be surprised, whatever scenes may 
by them be acted. 

One of these curious occurrences remains even to this day a 
subject of surmise and mystery. During the rebellion in Coun- 
ty Wexford, in 1798, Mr. Waddy, a violent loyalist, but sur- 
rounded by a neighborhood of inveterate insurgents, fled to a 
castle at a considerable distance from the town of Wexford. 
Though not in repair, it was not unfit for habitation, and might 
secure its tenant from any coup-de-main of undisciplined insur- 
gents. He dreaded discovery so Anuch, that he would intrust 
his place of refuge to no person whatsoever ; and, as he con- 



WADDy's castle SINGULAR ACCIDENT. 167 

ceived, took sufficient food to last until lie miglit escape out of 
tlie country. There was but one entrance to the castle, and 
that was furnished with an old ponderous portcullis, which 
drew up and let down as in ancient fortresses. 

Here Mr. Waddy concealed himself; and everybody was for 
a long time utterly ignorant as to his fate. Some said he was 
drowned ; some, burnt alive ; others, murdered and buried in 
ploughed ground! — but while each was willing to give an 
opinion as to the mode of his destruction, no one supposed him 
to be still alive. At length, it occurred to certain of his friends 
to seek him through the country ; with which view they set 
out, attended by an armed body. Their search was in vain, 
until approaching by chance the old castle, they became aware 
of a stench, which the seekers conjectured to proceed from the 
putrid corpse of murdered Waddy. On getting nearer, this 
opinion was confirmed ; for a dead body lay half within and 
half without the castle, which the descent of the portcullis had 
cut nearly into equal portions. Poor Mr. Waddy was deeply 
lamented ; and, though with great disgust, the party proceeded 
to remove that half of the carcass which lay outside the en- 
trance—when, to their infinite astonishment, they perceived 
that it was not Waddy, but a neighboring priest, Avho had been 
so expertly cut in two. How the accident had happened, no- 
body could surmise. They now rapped and shouted — but no 
reply : Waddy, in good truth, lay close within, supposing them 
to be rebels. At length, on venturing to peep out, he discov- 
ered his friends, whom he joyfully requested to raise the port- 
cullis, and let him out — as he was almost starved to death. 

This, Avith difficulty, was effected, and the other half of the 
priest was discovered immediately within the entrance — but 
by no means in equally good condition with that outside ,• in- 
asmuch as it appeared that numerous collops and rump-steaks 
had been cut off the reverend gentleman's hind-quarters by 
Waddy, who, early one morning, had found the priest thus 
divided : and being alike unable to raise the portcullus or get 
out to look for food (certain, indeed, in the latter case,, of being 
piked by any of the rebels who knew him), he thought it bet- 
ter to feed on the priest, and remain in the castle till fortune 



168 IRISH KEBELLION. 

smiled, than run a risk of breaking all liis bones by dropping 
from the battlements — his only alternative. 

To the day of Waddy's death he could give no collected, or 
rational account of this incident : indeed, so confused had his 
head become in consequence of his critical circumstances, that 
the whole appeared to him ever after as a dream or vision 
quite beyond his comprehension. 

The foregoing, though among the most curious, is but one 
of the extraordinary occurrences of that dreadful insurrection 
— some of which tend to strengthen my superstitious feeling, 
which is, I confess, very deep-rooted, as also is my conviction 
that "whatever is, is right." Scarcely any except the Jbrtu- 
nate will, I suppose, be ready to join me in the latter notion, 
though in the former I am aware I have many "associates, par- 
ticularly among old women and hypochondriacs : I am, it is 
true, laughed at for both by clever ladies and strong-tninded gen- 
tlemen, but still think proper to retain my own impressions. 

I will detail the following circumstance in illustration of 
these principles. It took place immediately previous to the 
breaking out of the rebellion : — 

I dined at the house of Lady Oolclough (a near relative of 
Lady Barrington), in the town of Wexford, in April, 1798. 
The company, so far as I recollect, consisted, of about seven- 
teen persons, among whom were several other, of Lady B.'s 
relatives, then members of the grand-jxuy : Mr. Cornelius Gro- 
gan, of Johnstown, a gentleman of very large fortune who had 
represented the county ; his two brothers, both wealthy men ; 
Captain Keogh, afterward rebel governor of Wexford, the hus- 
band of Lady B.'s aunt ; the unfortunate John Colclough, of 
Tintern, and the still more unfortunate Mr. Colclough; Coun- 
sellor John Beauman ; Counsellor Bagenal Harvey, afterward 
the rebel generalissimo ; Mr. William Hatton, and some others. 
The conversation after dinner turning on the distracted state 
of the country, became rather too free, and I begged some of 
the party to be more moderate, as our ways of thinking were 
so different, and my public situation did not permit me, espe- 
cially at that particular period, to hear such strong language : 
the. loyalists among us did not exceed four or five. 



DINNEK-PARTY AT LADY COLCLOUGh's. 169 

The tone of tlie conversation was soon lowerecl, but not be- 
fore I liad made up my mind as to the probable fate of several 
in the company, though I certainly had no idea that, in little 
more than a month, a sanguinary rebellion would desolate my 
native land, and violent deaths, within tliree months, befall 
a great proportion of that joyous assemblage. I had seen 
enough, however, to convince me that all was not right ; and 
that, by plunging one step farther, most of my relatives and 
friends would be in imminent danger. The party, however, 
broke up ; and next morning, Mr. Beauman and myself, hap- 
pening to meet on the bridge, talked over the occurrences of 
the previous day, uniting in opinion as to the inauspicious 
aspect of things, and actually proceeding to make out a list of 
those among the dinner-party whom we considered likely to 
fall victims ! — and it so turned out that every one of our pre- 
dictions was verified. It was superficial observation alone that 
led me to think as I did at that moment, but a decided pre- 
sentiment of what eventually happened soon after took posses- 
sion of me ; and indeed so full was I of forebodings, that I have 
more than once been roused out of my sleep by the horrid ideas 
floating through my mind ! 

Bagenal Harvey (already mentioned in this work), v»'ho had 
been my schoolfellow and constant circuit-companion for many 
years, laughed, at Lady Colclough's, at my political prudery ; 
assured me I was totally wrong in suspecting him ; and insisted 
on my going to Bargay castle, his residence, to meet some old 
temple friends of ours on the ensuing Monday. My relative 
Captain Keogh was to be of the party. 

I accordingly went there to dinner, but that evening proved 
to me of great uneasiness, and made a very disagreeable im- 
pression on both my mind and spirits. The company I met 
included Captain Keogh ; the two unfortunate Counsellors 
Sheers, who were both hung shortly afterward : Mr. Colclough, 
who was hung on the bridge ; Mr. Hay, who was also executed ; 
Mr. William Hatton, one of the rebel directory of Wexford, 
who unaccountably escaped ; and a gentleman of the bar whose 
name I shall not mention, as he still lives. 

8 



170 nilSH REBELLION. 

The entertainment was good, and the party cheerfiih Tem- 
ple freaks were talked over ; the bottle circulated ; but, at 
length, Irish politics became the topic, and proceeded to an 
extent of disclosure which utterly surprised me. With the 
Messrs. Sheers (particularly Henry) I had always been on 
terms of the greatest intimacy : I had extricated both of them 
not long before from considerable difficulty, through the kind- 
ness of Lord Kilwarden ; and I had no idea that matters where- 
in they were concerned had proceeded to the lengths developed 
on that night. The probability of a speedy revolt was freely 
discussed, though in the most artful manner, not a word of any 
of the party committing themselves : but they talked it over 
as a result which might be expected from the complexion of 
the times and the irritation excited in consequence of the se- 
verities exercised by the government. The chances of suc- 
cess, in the event of a rising, were openly debated, as were 
also the circumstances likely to spring from that success, and 
the examples which the insurgents would in such a case prob- 
ably make. All this was at the same time talked over, with- 
out one word being uttered in favor of rebellion — a system of 
caution which, I afterward learned, was much practised for 
the purpose of gradually making proselytes without alarming 
'them. I saw through it clearly, and here my presentiments 
came strong upon me. I found myself in the midst of absolute 
though unavowed conspirators. I perceived that the explosion 
was much nearer than the government expected ; and I was 
startled at the decided manner in which my host and his 
friends spoke. 

Under these circumstances, my alternative was evidently to 
quit the house or give a turn to the conversation. I therefore 
began to laugh at the subject, and ridicule it as quite visionary, 
observing jestingly to Keogh — "Now, my dear Keogh, it is 
quite clear that you and I, in this famous rebellion, shall be on 
different sides of the question, and of course one or the other 
of us must necessarily be hanged at or before its termina- 
tion ; I upon a lamp-iron in Dublin, or you on the bridge of 
Wexford. Now, we'll make a bargain! — if we beat you, 
upoix my honor I'll do all I can to save your neck ; and if 



FATE OF THE DINNER-PARTY. ITI 

jour folks beat us, you'll save me from the honor of the lamp- 
iron. 

We shook hands on the bargain, which created much merri- 
ment, and gave the whole after-talk a cheerful character ; and 
I returned to Wexford at twelve at night, with a most decided 
impression of the danger of the country, and a complete pre- 
sentiment that either myself or Captain Keogh would never 
see the conclusion of that summer. 

I immediately wrote to Mr. Secretary Cooke, without men- 
tioning names, place, or any particular source of knowledge, 
but simply to assure him that there was not a doubt that an 
insurrection would break out at a much earlier period than the 
government expected. I desired him to ask me no questions, 
but said that he might depend upon the fact ; adding that a 
commanding force ought instantly to be sent down to garrison 
the town of Wexford. " If the government," said I, in con- 
clusion, " does not attend to my warning, it must take the 
consequences." My warning was not attended to ; but his 
majesty's government soon found I Avas right. They lost 
Wexford, and might have lost Ireland, by that culpable 
inattention. 

The result need scarcely be mentioned ; every member of 
that jovial dinner-party (with the exception of myself, the 
barrister before alluded to, and Mr. Hatton), was executed 
within three months ! and on my next visit to Wexford, I saw 
the heads of Captain Keogh, Mr. Harvey, and Mr. Colclough, 
on spikes over the court-house door. 

Previously to the final catastrophe, however, when the insur- 
gents had been beaten, Wexford retaken by our troops, and 
Keogh made prisoner, I did not forget my promise to him at 
Bargay castle. Many certificates had reached Dublin of his 
humanity to the royalists while the town of Wexford was under 
his government, and of attempts made upon his life by Dixon, 
a chief of his own party, for his endeavoring to resist the rebel 
butcheries. I had intended to go with these directly to Lord 
Camden, the lord lieutenant ; but I first saw Mr. Secretary 
Cooke, to whom I related the entire story, and showed him 
several favorable documents. He told me I might save myself 



# 



172 IKISH REBELLION. 

the trouble of going to Lord Camden : and at the same time 
handed me a despatch received that morning from General 
Lake, who stated that he had thought it necessary, on recap- 
turing Wexford, to lose no time in " making examples" of the 
rebel chiefs ; and that accordingly, Mr. G-rogan, of Johnstown, 
Mr. Bagenal Harvey, of Bargay castle. Captain Keogh, Mr, 
Colclough, and some other gentlemen, had been hanged on the 
bridge and beheaded the previous morning. 

I felt shocked beyond measure at this intelligence, particu- 
larly as I knew Mr. Cornelius Grogan (an excellent gentleman, 
seventy years of age, of very large fortune and establishments) 
to be no more a rebel than myself. Being unable, from infir- 
mity, to walk without assistance, he was led to execution. 

I was at all times ready and willing to risk' my life to put 
down that spirit of mad democracy which sought to subvert all 
legal institutions, and to support every true principle of the 
constitution which protected us : but at the same tim.e I must 
in truth and candor say (and I say it with reluctance), that 
during those most sanguinary scenes, the brutal conduct of cer- 
tain frantic royalists was at least on a parallel with that of the 
frantic rebels. 

A short time after the recapture of Wexford, I traversed that 
country, to gee the ruins Avhich had been occasioned by warfare. 
Enniscorthy had been twice stormed, and was dilapidated and 
nearly burned. New Ross showed most melancholy relics of 
the obstinate and bloody battle of full ten hours' duration, 
which had been fought in every street of it. The numerous 
pits crammed with dead bodies, on Vinegar hill, seemed on 
some spots actually elastic as we stood upon them ; while the 
walls of an old windmill on its summit, appeared stained and 
splashed with the blood and brains of the many victims who 
had been piked or shot against it by the rebels. The court- 
house of Enniscorthy, wherein our troops had burned alive 
above eighty of the wounded rebels, and the barn of Sculla- 
bogue, where the rebels had retaliated by burning alive above 
one hundred and twenty protestants, were terrific ruins ! The 
town of Gorey was utterly destroyed, not a house being left 
perfect, and the bodies of the killed were lying half-covered 



DEATH OF COLONEL WALPOLE. 173 

in sundry ditches in its vicinity. It was liere that Colonel 
"Walpole had been defeated and killed a few days before.* 

An unaccountable circumstance was witnessed by me on that 
tour immediately after the retaking of Wexford. General 
Lake, as I have before mentioned, had ordered the heads of 
Mr. Grogan, Captain Keogh, Mr. Bagenal Harvey, and Mr. 
Colclough, to be placed on very low spikes, over the court- 
house door of Wexford. A faithful servant of Mr. Grogan had 
taken away his head; but the other three remained there 
when I visited the town. The mutilated countenances of 
friends and relatives, in such a situation, would, it may be 
imagined, give any man most horrifying sensations ! The 
heads of Mr. Colclough and Harvey appeared black lumps, 
the features being utterly undistinguishable ; that of Keogh 
was uppermost, but the air had made no impression on it what- 
ever ! His comely and respect-inspiring face (except the jpale 
hue, scarcely to be called livid), was the same as in life : his 
eyes were not closed ; his hair not much ruffled : in fact, it ap- 
peared to me rather as a head of chiselled marble, with glass 
eyes, than as the lifeless remains of a human creature : this 
circumstance I never could get any medical man to give me 
the least explanation of. I prevailed on General Hunter, who^^ 
then commanded in Wexford, to suffer the three heads to h^9 
taken down and buried. 

* jS'o man ever came to a violent death more unwarily ! Colonel "Walpole 
was a peculiarly handsome man, an aid-de-camp to Lord Camden. With 
Bomewhat of the air of a petit-maMre, he fluttered much about tlie drawing- 
room of the castle ; but, as he had not seen actual service, he felt a sort of 
military inferiority to veterans who had spent the early part of their lives 
in blowing other people's brains out; and he earnestly begged to be intrust- 
ed with some command that might give him an opportunity of fighting for 
a few weeks in the county of "Wexfoi^d, and of writing some elegant des- 
patches to his excellency, the lord lieutenant. The lord lieutenant most 
kindly indulged him with a body of troops, and sent him to fight in the 
County Wexford, as he requested : but on passing the town of Gorey, not 
being accustomed to advanced guards or flankers, he overlooked such trifles 
altogether! and having got into a defile with some cannon and the Antrim 
regiment, in a few minutes the colonel was shot through the head — the 
cannon changed masters, and most of the Antrim heroes had each a pike, 
ten or twelve feet long, sticking in his carcass — "Sic transit gloria mundi !" 



1T4 WOLF TONE. 



4r 



WOLF TONE. 

Counspllor Theobold Wolf Tore — His lespmWance to Mr. Croker — He is ordpred to be 
Hanged by a Military Coui-t — Gpneml Ci'aig attached in Court of Common Pleas — Tone's 
Attempt at Suicide — Cruel Suggestion respecting him. 

TheobaljJ Wolf Tone was one of the most remarkable of 
the persons who lost their lives in consequence of that wild 
democratic mania, which, at the period treated of in the former 
sketch, had seized upon the reason of so many otherwise sensible 
individuals. His catastrophe can not fail to be interesting. 

This gentleman's enthusiastic mind was eternally surrounded 
by the mist of visionary speculation : it was a' fine sailer, but 
wanted ballast. He had distinguished himself somewhat in 
the university as a desultory declaimer, but, in my judgment, 
that was the full extent of his powers. He was neither high- 
born, nor wealthy ; in fact, I fear even a steady competency 
was not at his command ; and hence his spirit, naturally rest- 
less, was additionally goaded and inflamed. 

It is a curious circumstance that Mr. Tone, a decided revo- 

tionist and rebel, married improvidently enough, one sister, 
hile Mr. Thomas Reynolds, who betrayed the friends of Tone 
^d of himself, espoused another. 

Tone was called to the Irish bar ; but had been previously 
over-rated, and did not succeed. I thought it a pity (as he was 
really a good-hearted person) that he should not be fairly tried, 
and, if possible, pushed forward ; and being myself high on 
the circuit, I took him round in my carriage three times, and 
then thought well of him ; but he was too light and visionary ; 
and as for law, was quite incapable of imbibing that species 
of science. His person was unfavorable — his countenance 
thin and sallow ; and he had in his speech a harsh guttural 
pronunciation of the letter R — a defect shared by him in com- 
mon with Mr. Croker, of the admiralty, who indeed resembled 
him in personal appearance greatly, but was somewhat Tone's 
inferior in elocution. 

It is my belief, that Tone could not have succeeded in any 



CONDEMNED TO BE HANGED. 175 

steady civil profession. He was not worldly enongh, nor had - 
he sufficient common sense for liis guidance. His biography 
has been repeatedty published, and I only intend here to allude 
to the extraordinary circumstances of h'is death ; an event upon 
which I confess I had many painful feelings, and not the less 
so from its being connected with my own judicial functions. 

He had been taken in arms by Sir John Borlase AYarren, at 
sea, in a French frigate, proceeding to land troops in Ireland. 
He wore the uniform of a French officer, but being recognised, 
brought prisoner to Dublin, and delivered over for trial to the 
provost-marshal and military authorities, he was of course con- 
demned to be hanged. I did not see him under these dis- 
tressing circumstances, nor in truth was it my wish to do so ; 
for although there existed between us no actual friendship, still 
I had a strong feeling for a gentleman with whom I had been 
so well acquainted. 

It occurred to his counsel that the jurisdiction of martial-law 
could not extend to him, as it only operated on land, and he 
had been taken at sea. An application was therefore made to 
the common pleas, to have him brought up by habeas corpus, in 
order (the point being ascertained) to be regularly tried before 
the competent tribunal — the court of admiralty. The hahe(Mm^ 
corpus being granted, was served on General Craig, who the^^^ 
commanded in Dublin, but who refused to obey it, and was 
attached for his disobedience ; an order being consequently 
made for the general and some of his staff to be taken into 
custody by the officers of the court. 

To me (as judge of the admiralty) this appeal was most 
distressing. Had Tone the least chance of escape in any 
court, or upon any trial, it might have been otherwise; but he 
could not be defended ; and to have him brought before me only 
to witness his conviction, and to pronounce, his sentence, 
shocked me extremely. His friends thought this course might 
prolong his fate a considerable time, and it Avas supposed that 
something might intermediately occur calculated to affect a 
commutation of the capital puiiisliment. I knew, better ! I 
was convinced that his execution Vv as determined on; it was 
unavoidable, and I felt great uneasiness. 



^t^ 

^^g 



176 VvOLF TONE. j, 

The court having ordered General Craig, and Major Sandys 
(provost-marshal) to be arrested for disobedience, both these 
gentlemen submitted, and the pursiiwant wa^ then directed to 
bring up the body of Theobald Wolf Tone, on the writ of 
habeas corpus. The judges sat patiently awaiting the officer's 
return : and the decision being of great importance, the court 
was crowded to suffocation. 

A considerable time elapsed, and still \h.Q pursuivant returned 
not. At length he appeared, Avith horror in his looks, and 
scarcely able to speak. He informed the court, that Mr. Tone 
feeling certain of execution by order of the military, and being 
ignorant of the motion which his friends thought might give 
him some chance for his life, had cut his throat from ear to ear, 
and, he believed, was dying ! A surgeon now attended, who 
reported that the prisoner had certainly cut his throat, but that 
recovery was possible : the incision was long and deep, but had 
missed the artery, and he still lived. Of course, the trial was 
postponed ; every friend he had (and I think he h^ many 
among the bar), rejoicing that poor Tone had escaj^ed a public 
execution. He lingered awhile : and will it be. believed, that 
when the wound had been connected, and while life still 

emed to be precarious, owing to the extreme inflammation — 

say, will it be believed that there existed cruelty sufficient 
in the breast of any human creature to advise his execution — 
though it would have been impossible to put the sentence in 
force without inserting the rope within the wound, and nearly 
tearing away the unfortunate gentleman's head from his body? 
Yet such advice was given, "for the sake of example;" and 
rejected, I am happy to say, with horror. I will spare the 
man who gave it the ignominy which would thence attach to 
his name were it mentioned. 



MY CONTEST FOR DUBLIN CITY. 17 T 



DUBLIN ELECTION. 

My Contest for Dublin City — Supported by Grattan, Ponsonby, Plunkett, and Curran — 
Sineularity of a Canvass for Dublin — The Election — Curious Incidents — Grattan's Famous 
Philippic never before Published — Memoirs of Mr. John Gitfard, called the " Dog in 
Oifice" — Horish the Chimney-Sweeper's Bon-mot. 

In 1803, I had become particularly popular in Dublin. I 
was not at enmity with any sect or any party. The losses and 
deprivations which 'the citizens of Dublin were suffering in 
consequence of the union brought to their recollection the fact 
of my having been one of its most zealous opponents. They 
knew that I had entertained professional ambition ; and they 
also knew that, in order to oppose that measure, and support 
the independence of the nation as well as my own, I had with 
open eyes sacrificed all the objects of my ambition : — that I 
had refused the most gratifying proposals ; and, in maintenance 
of principle, had set my face decidedly against the measures 
of that government which I had on other occasions supported, 
and which alone possessed the power to advance me. They 
knew that I had braved the animosity of Chancellor Clare,"* 
whom few had ever ventured to oppose so decidedly as myself; 
and that I had utterly renounced Lord Castlereagh, by whom 
all means were employed to attach me. In fact, the citizens 
of Dublin recollected that I had abandoned every prospect in 
life to uphold their interest ; and consequently many persons 
on both sides of politics had proposed to me to become a can- 
didate for the representation of the metropolis in parliament. 
Some entire corporations voted me their freedom and support; 
and a g^eat number of the freeholders tendered me their aid. 
Having, in addition, an extensive personal interest of my own, 
I at length determined to stand the contest. 

Persons of the first weisfht and rank came forward in mv 
favor; and among these I am proud to enumerate: — his grace 
the duke of Leinster, Mr. Grattan, Mr. George Ponsonby, Mr. 
Curran, Mr. Plunkett, several of the most respectable members 

8* 



ITS DUBLIN ELECTION. 

of mj own profession, and many private gentlemen. Indeed, 
the mode wherein I was brought forward, and the parties by 
whom I was encouraged, could not but combine to gratify me 
highly. 

The city, however, immediately divided into two inveterate 
factions, one of which declared for Mr. Beresford, the banker, 
and Mr. Ogle, the Orange chieftain ; while the other supported 
Mr. Latouche and myself. A fifth gentleman, Sir John Jer- 
voise White Jervoise, Bart., also announced himself a candi- 
date, on the strength of his own personal connections, and 
individual property in the city, backed by any second votes he 
could pick up among the rest. 

Dublin differs from London in this respect — inasmuch as, 
there must be an individual canvass requiring hard labor of 
at least two months or ten weeks, by day and by night, to 
get through it cleverly. One custom alone takes up an im- 
mensity of time, which, though I believe it never existed any- 
where else, has good sense to recommend it. The grand 
corporation of Dublin comprises twenty-five minor corporations 
or trades, each independent of the other ; and all (knowing 
their own importance previous to an election, and their insig- 
nificance after it is over) affect the state and authority of a 
Venetian senate, and say (shrewdly enough), "How can we, 
ignorant men ! tell who is fittest to represent Dublin till we 
have an opportunity of knowing their abilities 1" And for the 
purpose of acquiring this knowledge, each corporation appoints 
a day to rec^ve the candidates in due formality in its hall ; 
and each candidate in then called on to make an oration, in 
order to give the electors power of judging as to his capability 
to speak in parliament. So that, in the progress of his can- 
vass, every candidate must make twenty-four or twenty-six 
speeches in his best style. Nothing can be more amusing than 
the gravity and decorum, wherewith the journeymen barbers,* 
hosiers, skinners, cooks, &c., &c., receive the candidates, listen 
to their fine florid harangues, and then begin to debate among 
themselves as to their comparative merits ; and, in truth, as- 

* Who very lately addressed the duke of York as "the corporation of 
surgeons," — i. e. barber-surgeons. 



ITS RESULTS. 179 

sume as miicli importaM^ as the diplomatists at Vienna, witli 
intentions to the full as good. 

However, I got through my canvass of nearly three months, 
and remained tolerably in my senses at the conclusion of it : 
though most undoubtedly, I drank as much porter and whiskey 
with the electors themselves ; and as m.uch tea and cherry- 
brandy with their wives, as would have ended my days on any 
other occasion. But I loved the people of Dublin ; I had lived 
more than thirty years among them ; was upon good terms 
with all parties and societies ; and, if elected, I should have 
been a very faithful, and I trust, an effective representative. 

The humors of aii Irish canvass can only be known to those 
who have witnessed them ; and I believe, no election, even in 
Ireland, ever gave rise to more of what is termed real fun. 
Most of the incidents are too trivial and too local for detail : 
but there Vv'ere some so ludicrous, that even at this moment, I 
can scarce refrain from laughing at their recollection. 

Never was a business of the kind conducted with more 
spirit ; and, at the same time, a degree of good temper pre- 
vailed, not to have been expected in a contest which called 
into play the most fiery and rancorous party feelings ; and the 
genuine stream of humor that steadily flowed on, had a great 
effect in washing away any marks of ill blood. It is wdth 
pride I relate that the four voters who formed my first tally 
were, Mr. George Ponsonby (afterward lord-chancellor), Mr. 
Henry Grattan, Mr. William Plunkett (the present attorney- 
general), and Mr. John Philpot Curran (afterward master of 
the rolls) ; and that the two former accompanied their votes 
by far more than merited eulogies. 

I lost the election : but I polled to the end of the fifteen 
days, and had the gratification of' thinking that I broke the 
knot of a virulant ascendency ; was the means of Mr. La- 
touche's success, and likewise of Mr. Grattan's subsequent re- 
turn. 

In the course of that election many curious incidents occur- 
red ; and as everything which relates to Mr. Grattan, and tends 
to elucidate the character and peculiarities of that most pure 
and eminent of my countrymen, must necessarily be interesting 



ISO DUBLIN ELECTION. 

(anecdotes, whicli if not recorded now by me, would be lost 
forever), I feel myself justified in detailing a few, though in 
themselves of no particular importance. 

In the days of unsophisticated patriotism, when the very 
name of Grattan operated as a spell to rouse the energies and 
spirit of his country ; when the schisms of party bigotry had 
yielded to the common weal, and public men obtained that 
public gratitude which they merited ; the corporation of Dublin 
(in some lucid interval of the Scottish malady which has ever 
distinguished that inconsiderate and intemperate body), ob- 
tained a full-length portrait of Henry Grattan, then termed 
their great deliverer. His name graced ' their corporate rolls 
as asi hereditary freeman,* when the jealous malice of that 
rancorous and persevering enemy of every man opposed to him, 
the earl of Clare, in a secret committee of the house of lords, 
introduced into their report some lines of a deposition by one 
Hughes (a rebel who had been made a witness, and was in- 
duced to coin evidence to save his own life), detailing a con- 
versation which he alleged himself to have had with Mr. Grat- 
tan, wherein the latter had owned that he v/as an United 
Irishman. Everybody knew the total falsity of this. Indeed, 
Mr. Grattan was, on the other hand, a man whose principles 
had been on certain occasions considered too aristocratic ; and 
yet he was now denounced, in the slang of the lord-chancellor, 
"an infernal democrat^ The corporation of Dublin caught 
the sound, and, without one atom of inquiry, tore down from 
their walls the portrait which had done them so much honor, 
and expelled Grattan from the corporation without trial or even 
notice ; thus proclaiming one of the most loyal and constitu- 
tional subjects of the British empire to be a rebel and incendi- 
ary. He despised and took no'notice of their extravagance. 

On the election in question, I was proposed by Mr. George 
Ponsonby, and upon Mr. Grattan rising next to vote upon my 
tally, he was immediately objected to as having been expelled 
on the report of Lord Glare's committee. A burst of indignation 
on the one side, and a boisterous declamation on the other, 

* Mr. Grattan's father had been recorder of Dublin, and representative 
in parliament for that city. 



TPJUMni OF geatta.n:. ISJ 

fortliAvitli succeeded. It was of an alarming nature : Grattan 
meanwhile standing silent, and regarding, Avitli a smile of the 
most ineffable contempt ever expressed, his shameless accusers. 
The objection was made by Mr. John-Giffard, of whom here- 
after. On the first intermission of the tumult, with a calm and 
dignified air, but in that energetic tone and style so peculiar 
to himself, Mr. Grattan delivered the following memorable 
words — memorable, because conveying in a few short senten- 
ces the most overwhelming philippic — the most irresistible as- 
semblage of terms imputing public depravity, that the English, 
or, I believe, any other language, is capable of affording : — 

"Mr. Sheriff, wlien I observe the quarter whence the ob- 
jection comes, I am not surprised at its being made ! It pro- 
ceeds from the hired traducer of his country — the excommuni- 
cated of his fellow-citizens — the regal rebel — the unpunished 
ruffian — rthe bigoted agitator! In the city a firebrand — in the 
court a liar — in the streets a bullv — in the field a coward! 
And so obnoxious is he to the very party he wishes to espouse, 
that he is only supportable by doing those dirty acts the less 
vile refuse to execute." 

Giffard, thunderstruck, lost his usual assurance ; and replied, 
in one single sentence, "I would spit upon him in a desert !" 
which vapid and unmeaning exclamation was his sole retort ! 

I called for the roll, and on inspection, Mr. Grattan's name 
appeared never to have been erased. Of course, the objection 
was overruled — my friend voted, and his triumph was com- 
plete. 

The erasure of his name from the roll was never afterward 
attempted ; and, on the dissolution of that parliament, he was 
.requested by the very same body to stand forward as their 
" most illustrious countryman," and elected by acclamation in 
that very same court-house, as the representative of the city 
and corporation which had so recently endeavored to debase 
and destroy him ; his chairing being attended with enthusiasm 
by those who some time before would with equal zeal have 
attended his execution. Never was there exhibited a more 
complete proof of causeless popular versatility ; which, indeed, 
was repeatedly practised on that real patriot. 



182 DUBLIN ELECTION. 

Mr. Jolin Giffard, the subject of the foregoing philippic, was 
a very remarkable person. He had a great deal of vulgar 
talent ; a daring impetuosity ; and was wholly indifferent to 
opinion. From first to last he fought his way through the 
world, and finally worked himself up to be the most sturdy 
partisan I ever recollect in the train of government. His de- 
testation of the pope and , his adoration of King William, he 
carried to an excess quite ridiculous ; in fact, on both subjects 
he seemed occasionally delirious. His life had many curious 
incidents connected with it, and as it would be wrong that a 
name so frequently occurring in the local history of Ireland 
should remain unnoticed, I have, therefore, in these fragments 
introduced it. 

I did not agree with Mr. Grattan as to all the epithets where- 
with he honored the captain. " A coward" he most certainly 
was not. With all his faults (or crimes if they should be called 
so), he had several qualities which in social intercourse are 
highly valuable ; and hence it is just to make a clear distinc- 
tion between his private and his public character. He was as 
warm-hearted and friendly a person as I ever met with ; and, 
on the other hand, a bitterer enemy never existed : I don't 
think he ever was mine. 

Giffard was originally an apothecary. When- 1 was at the 
Dublin university, the students were wild and lawless ; any 
offence to one was considered as an offence to all ; and as the 
elder sons of most men of rank and fortune in Ireland were 
then educated in Dublin college, it was dangerous to meddle 
with so powerful a set of students, who consequently did pre- 
cisely what they chose (outside the college-gates). If they 
conceived offence against anybody, the collegians made no 
scruple of bringing the offender into the court, and pumping 
him well ; and their unanimity and numbers were so great that 
it was quite impossible any youth could be selected for punish- 
ment. In my time, we used to break open what houses we 
pleased ! regularly beating the watch every night, except in 
one parish, which we always kept in pay, to lend us their poles 
wherewith to fight the others. In short our conduct Avas out- 
rageous, and the first check we ever received was from Giffard, 



HOEISH, THE OHllVINEY-SWEEPEK. 183 

wlio was a director of the watch, and kept a shop close to the 
parliament-house. 

He having in some way annoyed the collegians, they deter- 
mined to pump Giffard, but they reckoned without their host ! 
He entrenched himself in his house, which we assailed, break- 
ing all his windows. He gave repeated Ayarnings to no pur- 
pose, and a new assault being commenced, Giffard fired a pistol, 
and a collegian was wounded in the wrist, whereupon the be- 
siegers immediately retired from the fortress. 

It was a lucky shot for Giffard, who immediately obtained 
some parochial office for his firmness; made himself of import- 
ance on every trifling subject ; and harangued constantly in 
the vestry. Of his subsequent progress, I know nothing till 
about the year 1790, when I became a public character, and 
found Giffard an attache to the castle in divers capacities. He 
was afterward placed in the revenue department, became a 
common-councilman, and at length high-sheriff'; at which ejpoch 
he acquired the title which forsook him not, of " The Dog in 
Office,^' though wherefore, I could never rightly make out. His 
acts from that period became part of the general statistical 
history of Irish politics. One of his sons was butchered in 
cool blood by the rebels at Kildare, which naturally increased 
his ferocity. His eldest son, Harding Giffard, and Mr. Croker, 
of the admiralty, married two sisters in Waterford. Mr. 
Croker's good luck enabled him to aid his relative, who, having 
tried the Irish bar in vain for several years, has become chief 
justice of Ceylon; Mr. Croker himself, after his unsuccessful 
professional essay, being casually indebted to several persons 
of celebrity for his very rapid elevation. 

During the election we are speaking of, one Horish, a master 
chimney-sweeper, appeared on the hustings. This man, being 
known to have several votes at command besides his OAvn, had 
been strongly canvassed, but would promise neither of the can- 
didates, nor give the least hint how he intended to vote. 

During the rebellion of 1798, Mr. John Beresford, one of the 
candidates, had built a riding-house for his yeomanry troop, 
Avhich had been also much used as a place for whipping sus- 
pected persons in, to make them discover what in all probability 



184 DUBLIN ELECTION. 

tliey never knew; a practice equally just and humane, and 
liberally resorted to, perhaps for sport, by military officers, 
pending that troublous era. 

In Mr. Beresford's riding-house, this infernal system was 
carried on to a greater extent than in any of the similar 
slaughter-houses then tolerated in the metropolis ; to such an 
extent, indeed, that some Irish wags (who never fail even upon 
the most melancholy occasions to exercise their native humor) 
had one night the words, " Mangling done here by J. Beresford 
& Co." painted upon a sign-board, and fixed over the entrance. 

It happened that this same Horish had been among those 
who had paid to their king and country a full share of skin for 
the crime of being anonymously suspected. He had not for- 
gotten the couple of hundred lashes on his bare carcass, which 
he had received in Mr. Beresford's riding-house, but the circum- 
stance, being of such an ordinary nature, was, of course, totally 
forgotten by the worthy candidate, notwithstanding the tena- 
cious sensation of the elector's loins, where many a good thick 
w^elt remained to remind him of the pastime. 

Horish, a coarse, rough-looking, strong-built, independent, 
and at the moment well-dressed brute of a fellow, remained 
quite coquettish as to his votes. " Let me see !" said he, feel- 
ing his importance, and unwilling to part with it .(which w^ould 
be the case the moment he had polled), and looking earnestly 
at all the candidates — " Let me see ! who shall I vote for? — 
I'm very hard to please, gentlemen, I assure you!" He hesi- 
tated : we all pressed — "Fair and easy, gentlemen," said 
Horish, looking at each of us again, " don't hurry a man !" 

*' Barrington," cried impatient Beresford, " I know that 
honest fellow Horish will vote for me !" Horish stared, but 
said nothing. 

" Indeed he will not," replied I, " eh, Horish !" Horish 
looked, but remained silent. 

" I'll lay you a rumjp and dozen,'"' exclaimed Beresford, " on 
the matter !" 

Horish now started into a sort of animation, but coolly re- 
plied — " You'll lose that same rump and dozen, Mr. Beresford ! 
'twas many a dozen you gave my r — ^ already in the riding- 



RICHARD BRINSLET SHERIDAK. 185 

house, and to the devil I boh that kind of entertainment ! but 
if ever I have the honor of meeting you up a chimney, depend 
on it, Mr. Beresford, I'll treat you Avith all the civility imagina- 
ble ! Come, boys, we'll poll away for'the counsellor!" and I 
was supported, I believe, by every chimney-sweeper in the city 
of Dublin (and they were many) who had votes. 

O 



ELECTION FOE COUNTY WEXFORD. 

Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan's Contest for County Wexford, omitted by all his Pseudo- 
Biographers — Duel of Mr. Alcock and Mr. Colclough (Candid<ites on a Question R^>spect- 
insf^Mr. Sheridfiu's Poll) — Mr. Colclough Kill^^d — A Lamentable Incident — Mr. Alcock's 
Trial — He afterward goes Mad and dit^s — His Sister, Miss Alcoclc, also dies a Lunatic in 
Consequence — Marquis of Ely Tried for an Outrage at \Yexford, and fined. 

It is to be regretted that the biographers and eulogists of 
Richard Brinsley Sheridan should have suppressed some of the 
most creditable incidents of his variegated life, while his 
memory is disgraced by pretended friends and literary ad- 
mirers. 

These writers have raked up from his ashes, and exposed to 
public indignation, every failing of that great and gifted man : 
so that, if their own productions were by any chance to become 
permanent, they would send him down to posterity as a witty, 
-but low and dissipated sharper ; or, in their very best coloring, 
as the most talented of mean and worthless mendicants. But 
Sheridan's reputation will outlive all such attempts to obliterate 
it; while the ignorance of his libellers is conspicuous from 
their omission of some of the most interesting events of his 
career, at the same time that others are vouched for, which to 
my individual knowledge are gross misrepresentations. 

Among the incidents that have been overlooked is one both 
extraordinary and melancholy, and forming an honorable com- 
ment on Mr. Sheridan's public character. I was, myself, men- 
tally interested in the whole transaction, and can therefore 
give it on my own responsibility. I am, indeed, most anxious 
to rescue his memory from the rough hands which, in sketch- 



186 WEXFOED ELECTION. 

ing their subject, have placed the mane of a lionJftjon the 
shoulders of a mountebank. Hr 

In speaking thus, I deeply regret that one of his biographers 
should be a man whom I esteem ; and I regret it the more, 
since he has used poor Sheridan as a chopping-block, whereon 
to hack the character of the most illustrious person of the 
British empire, who (for the first time in his life, I believe) 
has been accused of pecuniary illiherality. A circumstance 
accidentally came to my knowledge to prove that charge the 
very reverse of truth. But an opportunity will be taken by 
me of observing still more explicitly on i\ie,SQ friends of Mr. 
Sheridan. 

On the general election of 1808, Mr. John Oolclough, of 
Tintern Abbey, County Wexford, a near relative of mine (and 
locum tenens of his elder brother, Mr. Caesar Colclough, who 
had^been long resident on the continent), declared himself for 
the second time candidate for Wexford county, which he had 
represented in the previous parliament. The Colclough estates 
were large, the freeholders thereon numerous, and devoted to 
the interest of their patriotic leader, whose uncle, Mr. John 
Grogan, of Johnstown castle (also a relative of mine), possessed 
of a very large fortune and extensive tenantry, had united 
with his nephew and other most respectable and independent 
gentlemen of that county, to liberate its representation from 
the trammels of certain noblemen who had for many years 
usurped its domination. Mr. Colclough was determined to put 
the pride, spirit, and patriotism of the county to proof, and 
therefore proposed Mr. B,ichard Brinsley Sheridan as joint- 
candidate with himself, declaring that he was authorized by 
the independent freeholders of the county to say, that they 
should feel the greatest gratification in being represented by 
so distinguished an ornament to the name of Irishman. 

Mr. Colclough and Mr. Sheridan were, therefore, nominated 
on the one hand ; and Mr. Alcock,, supported by the interest 
of the influenced electors, on the other. 

Never yet was any poll conducted by more resolute, active, 
and zealous partisans ; but it is lamentable to add, that they 
were equally intemperate as zealous. The flame of patriotism 



• DUEL OF ALCOCK AND COLCLOUGH. 18T 

had caught the mass of the population ; tenants no longer 
obeyed the dictates of their absent landlords, nor the menaces 
of tyrannic agents : no man could count on the votes of his 
former vassals. The hustings was thronged with crowds of 
tenantry, constitutionally breaking away from their shackles, 
and voting according to their principles of free agency for 
Sheridan, a man known to them only by the celebrity of his 
talents. The poll proceeded — the independent party was 
advancing fast to success ; and, had the election continued, 
there is no doubt but that Mr. Sheridan would liaA^e been a 
representative for Wexford county. At this crisis occurred 
one of the most unfortunate and melancholy events on Irish 
record, and by which the contest was terminated — as if the 
untoward destiny of Sheridan withered everything that came 
in contact with it. 

Several tenants of a person who had given his interest to 
Mr. Alcock, absolutely refused to vote for that gentleman, 
declaring that, at every risk, they would support Oolclough 
and " the great Sheridan." Mr. Alcock's partisans perverted 
the free-agency of these men into seduction on the part of Mr. 
Colclough : hence a feeling decidedly hostile was excited ; the 
fierce zeal and frenzy of election partisanship burst into a 
flame ; and Mr. Oolclough was desired to decline such votes, 
or to receive them at his peril. 

Of course he disregarded this outrageous threat, and open 
war ensued. One party lost sight of reason — -both, of human- 
ity ; and it was determined, that before the opening of next 
morning's poll, the candidates should decide, by single combat, 
the contested question, and, of course, the election itself. With 
what indignation and horror must such a resolution, at once 
assailing law, good morals, and decency, be now regarded ! 
and how will the feeling of surprise increase from its being 
passed over with impunity ! 

Early on the eventful morning, many hundred people assem- 
bled to witness the affair; and it will scarcely be believed that 
no less than eleven or twelve county justices stood by, passive 
spectators of the bloody scene which followed, Avithout an 
effort, or apparently a wish, to stop the proceeding. 



188 WEXFOKD ELECTION. 

Botli combatants were remarkably near-sighted ; and Mr. 
Aleock determined on wearing glasses, Avliicli was resisted by 
the friends of Mr. Colclougb, who would wear none. The 
partisans of the former, however, persevered, and he did wear 
them. The ground at length was marked ; the anxious crowd 
separated on either side, as their party feelings led them ; but 
all seemed to feel a common sense of horror and repugnance. 
The unfeeling seconds handed to each principal a couple of 
pistols ; and placing them about eight or nine steps asunder, 
withdrew, leaving two gentlemen of fortune and character — 
brother-candidates for the county — and former friends, nay, 
intimate companions — standing in the centre of a field, without 
any jpersonal offence given or received, encouraged by false 
friends, and permitted by unworthy magistrates, to butcher 
each other as quickly and as effectually as their position and 
weapons would adm.it. 

The sight was awful ! a dead silence and pause ensued : the 
great crowd stood in motionless suspense : the combatants 
presented : men scarcely breathed : the word was given : Mr. 
Aleock fired first, and his friend — his companion — one of the 
best men of Ireland, instantly fell forward, shot through the 
heart! he spoke not — but turning on one side, his heart's 
blood gushed forth — his limbs quivered — he groaned and ex- 
pired. His pistol exploded after he was struck -^-of course 
without effect. 

The by-standers looked alm.ost petrified. The profound 
stillness continued for a moment, horror having seized the 
multitude, when, on the sudden, a loud and universal yell (the 
ancient practice of the Irish peasantry on the death of a chief- 
tain) simultaneously burst out like a peal of thunder from every 
quarter of the field ; a yell so savage and continuous — so like 
the tone of revenge, that it would have appalled any stranger 
to the customs of the country. Aleock and his partisans im- 
mediately retreated ; those of Oolclough collected round his 
body ; and their candidate (a few moments before in health, 
spirits, and vigor ! was mournfully borne back upon a plank 
to the town of his nativity, and carried lifeless through those 



TRIAL OF ALCOCK — ^HE GOES :MAD. 189 

very streets which had that morning been prepared to signalize 
his triumph. 

The election-poll, of course, proceeded without farther oppo- 
sition : the joint friends of Colclough and Sheridan, deprived 
of their support, and thunderstruck at the event, thought of 
nothing but lamentation : and in one hour Mr. Alcock was 
declared duly elected for Wexford county, solely through the 
death of his brother-candidate, whom he had himself that 
morning unjustly immolated. 

A more wanton duel, a more unnecessary, cruel, and in all 
points illegal transaction, never occurred in the United Em- 
pire : yet, strange to say, of those eleven or twelve magistrates 
who actually stood by, as amateurs, or partisans, in defiance 
of the law and of their duty, not one Avas displaced or pun- 
ished ! a precedent of impunity most discreditable to the high 
authorities of that day, dangerous to the peace of the country, 
and subversive of the first principles of free election. Judge 
of Sheridan's feelings on receiving this intelligence ; and judge 
of the correctness of his biographers, who have suppressed the 
incident. 

Nor was poor Colclough's death the last act of the tragedy. 
His friends thought themselves called on to prosecute Mr. 
Alcock, who fled, but subsequently returned and surrendered 
for trial. I attended, as special counsel for the prosecution. 
Baron Smith tried the cause. The evidence was stronger than 
I have deemed it necessary to recite. The baron stated .his 
opinion on the legal distinctions as applicable to duelling, and 
on that opinion the bar differed. It was not the wish of the 
prosecutors to do more than mark the transaction by a convic- 
tion for manslaughtery which the law under the circumstances, 
seemed to render imperative. However, the then politics of 
Wexford juries differed not unfrequently both from the laws 
of God and the statute-book; and the verdict returned in this 
instance was, to the surprise of every one, a general acquittal. 

But, alas ! the acquitted duellist suffered more in mind than 
his victim had done in body. The horror of the scene, and 
the solemnity of the trial, combined to make a fatal inroad on 
his reason ! He became melancholy ; his understanding grad- 



190 WEXFORD ELECTION. 

"ually declined ; a dark gloom enveloped his entire intellect ; 
and an excellent young man and perfect gentleman at length 
sank into irrecoverable imbecility. Goaded by the vicious 
frenzy of election partisans, he had slain his friend ; and, 
haunted by reHection and sorrow, he ended his own days in 
personal restraint and mental ruin. 

Two other duels were fought upon the same occasion, but 
with little injury and still less interest. Mr. Osesar Colclough 
has since returned from the continent ; and, on the strength of 
his late brother's popularity, was elected member for County 
Wexford. He has not, however, followed up the high reputa- 
tion of that brother, nor very satisfactorily fulfilled the expec- 
tations of his constituents. 

But to this sanguinary and fatal duel there was 'yet another 
sad corollary. Miss Alcock, sister of the member, had been 
most deeply affected by the mournful catastrophe. She had 
known Colclough long and intimately ; and being an amiable 
and sensitive young woman, her brother's absence, his trial, 
and his subsequent depression, kept the gloom.y transaction 
alive in her mind. Hence she also gradually wasted ; and the 
death of her brother sinking deeper and deeper into a heart, 
all the sources of tranquillity whereof had been dried up — lier 
reason wandei^ed, at length fled, and she did not long survive 
the dreadful fate of her friend and of her brother. 

A trivial anecdote will suffice to exhibit the general state 
of Wexford county, and of the aristocracy and magistracy, 
many of whom were a disgrace to their office, and completely 
filled up Mr. Grattan's definition of a " regal rebel" by their 
arrogance, tyranny, oppression, and disaffection. By these 
men the peasantry were goaded into a belief that justice was 
banished, and so driven into the arms of the avowed rebels, 
who lised every lure to enforce their previous delusion. 

A handsome young woman, maid-servant to a Mrs. Lett, who 
was considered as a ^x^oX 'patriot (rebel) in Wexford, happened 
one summer's evening to sit at her mistress's window singing 
songs, but to certain airs that were not considered orthodox by 
the aristocracy. 

The marquis of Ely, with the high-sheriff and other gentle- 



A WAY TO PKESEKYE THE PEACE. 191 

men of the county, were retiring after tlieir wine from tlie 
grand-jmy, and heard this unfortunate young siren warbling 
at the window : but as the song sounded to their loyal ears of 
a rebellious tendency, it was thought advisable to demolish the 
fragile parts of Mrs. Lett's house-front without delay ; and ac- 
cordingly, my lord, the high-sheriff, and their friends (to pre- 
serve the peace, and protect the constitution from such traitor- 
ous maid-servants), forthwith commenced their laudable under- 
taking ; and stones being the weapons nearest at hand, the 
windows and the warbling maid received a broadside, v»^hlch 
was of the greatest utility to the glazier, and had well nigh 
put fees into the potkets, not only of the surgeon, but of the 
sexton and coroner likewise. 

However, on this occasion, justice was not so far off as the 
peasants had been persuaded. My lord, the high-sheriff, and 
others, being indicted and tried, I had the honor of being his 
lordship's counsel ; and as our duty was to make " the worse 
appear the better cause,''^ I certainly did my utmost for the 
marquis : but his lordship, conceiving my delicacy to the maid- 
servant rather too great, requested permission to ask her a few 
questions himself, which was granted. 

" Now, girl," said the marquis, *' by the oath you have taken, 
did you not say you would sjilit my skull open .?" 

" Why, then, by the virtue of my oath," said the girl, turn- 
ing to the judge, " it would not be worth my while to split his 
skull open, my lord !" 

"Ha! ha!" said the marquis, "now I have her!" (wisely 
supposing she made some allusion to a reward for killing him) 
— " and tchy, girl, would it be not worth your while ?" 
• " Because, my lord," answered she, " if I had split your lord- 
ship's skull open — by virtue of my oath, I am sure and certain 
I should have found little or nothing inside of it !" 

The laugh against the noble marquis was now too great to 
admit of his proceeding any further with his cross-examination. 
He was found guilty, and fined. 



192 WEDDED LIFE. 



WEDDED LIFE. 

Lord Clonmell, Chief- Justice of the Irish Court of King's Bench — His Character — Lady 
Tyiawly's False Charge asrainst him — Consequent Duel between him and Lord Tyrawly 
— Edaircissement — Lord Tyjawly and Miss Wewitzer — Lord Clonmi'll's Hints " How to 
Rule a Wile" — Subsequent Conversation with his Lordship at Sir John Tydd's. 

The first cliief-judge who favored me with his intimacy was 
Lord Clonmell, chief-justice of the king's bench. His charac- 
ter appears at full length in my " Historical Memoirs of Ire- 
land," page 38, and a curious hut true character it is. I was 
introduced to his lordship's notice through Sir John Tydd, and 
received from him many instances of' kind attention ; and he 
gave me, early in life, some of the very best practical maxims. 
As he was one of the celebrated official " fire-eaters" (whom I 
shall hereafter mention), and fought several duels, it may be 
amusing to copy here, from the work in question, a few distin- 
guishing traits of his lordship : " Mr. Scott never omitted one 
favorable opportunity of serving himself. His skill was unri- 
valled, and his success proverbial. He was full of anecdotes, 
though not the most refined : these in private society he not 
only told, but acted ; and, when he perceived that he had made 
a very good exhibition, he immediately withdrew, that he 
might leave the most lively impression of his pleasantry be- 
hind him. His boldness was his first introduction — his policy 
his ultimate preferment. Courageous, vulgar, humorous, arti- 
ficial, he knew the world well, and he profited by that knowl- 
edge : he cultivated the powerful; he bullied the timid; he 
fought the brave ; he flattered the vain ; he duped the credu- 
lous ; and he amused the convivial. Half-liked, half-repro- 
bated, he was too high to be despised, and too low to be re- 
spected. His language was coarse, and his principles arbitrary ; 
but his passions were his slaves, and his cunning was his in- 
strument. In public and in private he was the same character ; 
and, though a most fortunate man and a successful courtier, he 
had scarcely a sincere friend- or a disinterested adherent." 

His duel with Lord Tyrawly was caused and attended by 



A DEEK^IEJJ EESOKT. 193 

circumstances wliicli combine to form a curious narrative. 
Lady Tyrawly had an utter dislike for lier husband (then the 
Honorable James Cuffe). They had no children, and she 
made various efforts to induce him to consent to a total sepa- 
ration. There being no substantial cause for sucb a measure, 
Mr. Cuffe looked upon it as ridiculous, and would not consent. 
At length, the lady hit upon an excellent mode for carrying 
her wishes into effect, and insuring a separate maintenance : 
but I never heard of the precedent being followed. 

Mr. Cuffe found her one day in tears, a thing not frequent 
with her ladyship, who had a good deal of the Amazon about 
lier. She sobbed — threw herself on her knees — went througb 
the usual evolutions of a repentant female — and, at length, 
told her husband that she was unworthy of his future protec- 
tion — had been faithless to him, and was a lost and guilty 
woman ! 

I suppose there is a routine of contrition, explanation, rage, 
honor, &c., &c., which generally attends developments of this 
nature ; and I take for granted that the same was duly per- 
formed by the Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Cuffe. Suffice it to say 
that the latter was put into a sedan-chair and ordered out of 
the house forthwith to private lodgings, until it was the will 
of her injured lord to send a deed of annuity for her support. 

Mr. Cuffe next proceeded to summon a friend, and inform 
him that his wife had owned " that villain Scott," the attorney- 
general, and the pretended friend of bis family, to be her se- 
ducer ! — that not his love, but his honor, was so deeply con- 
cerned, as to render the deatli of one or the other necessary : 
and, without further ceremony, a message was sent, for mortal 
combat, to the attorney-general, urging the lady's confession, 
his own dishonorable breach of trust, and Mr. Cuffe's determi- 
nation to fight him. 

Mr. Scott, well knowing that a declaration of innocence 
would by the world be considered either as honorable perjury 
on his part, to save Mrs. Cuffe's reputation, or as a mode of 
screening himself from her husband's vengeance (and in no 
case be believed even by the good-natured part of society), 
made up his mind for the worst. 

9 



194: WEDDED LIFE. 

The husband and supposed gallant accordingly met, and ex- 
changed shots : and each party having heard the bullets 
humanely whiz past his ears, without indicating a desire of 
becoming more intimately acquainted, Mr. Scott told his antag- 
onist that he was totally mistaken, and gave his honor that 
he never had the slightest familiarity with the lady, who, he 
concluded, must have lost her reason. 

There was no cause for denying credence to this ; Avhile, on 
the other hand, it was but too likely that Mr. OufFe had been 
tricked by his lady-wife. She was sure of a separation, for he 
had turned her out : and, if he had fallen on the field of honor, 
she had a noble jointure; so that she was in utrumque parata 
— secure under every chance. 

On his return, he sent a most severe reprimand ; and an- 
nounced but a moderate annuity, which she instantly and haugh- 
tily refused, positiA^ely declaring that she never had made any 
confession of guilt ; that the whole was a scheme of his own 
vicious jealousy, to get rid of her; and that she had only said 
he might just as iccll suspect the attorney-general, who had 
never said a civil thing to her, as anyhody else. She dared him 
to prove the least impropriety on her part ; and yet he had cru- 
elly turned her out of his house, and proclaimed his innocent 
wife to be a guilty woman ! 

Mr. Cuffe Saw she had been too many for him, every way ! 
He durst not give more publicity to the affair ; and therefore 
agreed to allow her a very handsome annuity, whereon she 
lived a happy life, and died but a few years since. 

The subsequent connection of Lord Tyrawly had likewise a 
singular termination. Miss Wewitzer, sister to the late cele- 
brated violinist of that name, soon filled Mrs. Cufi^'s vacant 
place; and by her, my lord had many children — the eldest 
being the present Colonel Cuffe, member of parliament for 
Mayo. I never saw two persons live more happily together 
than Lord Tyrawly and Miss Wewitzer. She was unexcep- 
tionably correct, and he very much attached to her. She had 
been remarkably pretty, and celebrated as a Rosetta (in Bick- 
erstaff^s opera). I was intimate with Lord Tyrawly, and have 
a very great regard for Colonel Cuffe. 



LOKD TTKAWLY AND MISS WEWITZEE. 195 

Tlie death of Ladj Tyrawly at length gave his lordship the 
long-expected opportunity of realizing his promises and inten- 
tions for the sake of his family ; and Lord Tyrawly and Miss 
Wewitzer being regularly married, she became the real Lady 
Tyrawly — whom she had so many years represented. 

Now, here was a cohabitation of considerably more than 
twenty years, in happiness and tranquillity, followed up by an 
honorable and just arrangement, wherefrom it might be ra- 
tionally supposed an increase of happiness would ensue. But, 
on the contrary, no sooner did the parties become legally man 
and Avife, than Madam Discord introduced herself ! It is sin- 
gular, but true, that (as if JSTature originally intended every 
living thing to remain totally free and independent) the mo- 
ment any two animals, however fond before, are fastened to- 
gether by a chain they can not break, they begin to quarrel 
without -apparent reason, and peck each other solely because 
they can't get loose again. 

So it was with my Lord and Lady Tyrawly : every hour 
added fresh fuel to the flame. At length (to continue my 
pretty simile), the chain became red hot — neither of them 
could bear it longer — and the whole affair ended in a volim- 
tary and most uncomfortable separation! However, it was 
only for a short time. Death, always fond of doing mischief 
in families, very soon brought them together again ; and if 
such a thing can be conceived as possible in the other world, 
It is no bad conjecture that at this moment my Lord Tyrawly, 
the two Lady Tyrawlys, and Lord Clonmell, are regretting 
what fools they were in giving themselves so much uneasiness 
upon subjects which only passed like shadows, instead of turn- 
'ing their minds to what might have been much more material. 

I recollect one of Lord Clonmell's maxims was, " Whatever 
must be done in the course of the week, always do it on the 
Monday morning :" and, in truth, whoever practises that rule, 
will find it in no slight degree convenient. I never did. 

Immediately after I was married, I resided next door to 
Lord Clonmell, in Harcourt street. He called on me most 
kindly, and took me to walk over his fine gardens and lawn ; 
and was so humorous and entertaining, that his condescension 



196 WEDDED LIFE. 

(as I then felt it) quite deliglited me ; but I afterward found 
out that he made a point of discovering every young man 
likely to succeed in public life, and took the earliest moment 
possible of being so civil as to insure a friend, if not a partisan, 
and no man wanted the latter more than his lordship. 

'' Barrington," said he to me, " you are married 1" 

" No doubt," said I, laughingly, *' as tight as any person on 
the face of the earth." 

" All women in the world," rejoined his lordship, " are fond 
of having their own way." 

" I am firmly of your opinion, my lord," said I. 

" Now," pursued he, '' the manner in which all wives are 
spoiled, is by giving them their own way at first ; for whatever 
you accustom them to at the beginning, they will expect ever 
after : so mind me ! I'll tell you the secret of ruling a wife, 
if known in time : 'Never do anything j^r peace-sake ;^ if you 
do, you'll never have one hour's tranquillity but by concession 
— mind that !" 

" I firmly believe it," exclaimed I. 

" Well," said he, " practise it !" 

.Sometime after, I met his lordship at Lamberton, Queen's 
county, the seat of Sir John Tydd. He related the above 
story, and asked me if I had taken his advice. • " No," said I. 

" Why ?" inquired his lordship. 

" Because," replied I, " a philosopJier has ai; easier life of it 
than a soldier.''^ 

I had the laugh against him, and the more particularly as 
his lordship had married a second wife, Miss Lawless (the pres- 
ent dowager), and I believe no husband in Ireland adhered 
less to his own maxim than did Lord Olonmell after that union. 



FIKST ACQTJAINTAK-CE WITH DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 197 



DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MARQUIS OF 
LONDONDERRY. 

Mj' first Acquaintance "with the Duke of Wellington and the late Marquis of Londonderry, 
at a Dinner at my own Hoxise — Some Memoirs and Anecdotes of the Former as a Public 
Man — My close Connection with Government — Lord Clare's Animosity to me suspended 
— Extraordinary Conference between Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Cooke, and me, in August, 
1798 — Singular Communication — Olfers made to me for Succession as Solicitor-General 
— I decline the Terms proposed — Lord Castlereagh's Letter to me — Character of Mr. 
Pelhara, now Earl of Chichester, 

My personal acquaintance with tlie duke of "Wellington origi- 
nated accidentally, soon after I commenced public life ; and so 
clearly shows the Tersatility of men, the fallibility of judgment, 
and the total uncertainty of all human prediction, that I can 
not avoid mentioning it. 

In 1793, when I was in high repute, most prosperous at the 
bar, living in the first ranks of society, a distinguished favorite 
at the vice-regal court, and designated as a candidate for the 
first offices of my profession — I occasionally gave large, splen- 
did dinners, according to the habit invariably adopted in those 
times by persons circumstanced like myself. At one of those 
entertainments. Major Hobart (Lord Buckinghamshire) ; Sir 
John Parnel ; Isaac Oorry ; I think. Lord Limerick ; Sir John 
(afterward Lord) De Blacquiere ; and Lords Llandafi", Dillon, 
Yelverton ; the speaker — in all, upAvard of twenty noblemen 
and commoners — did me the honor of partaking of my fare. 
Lord Clonmell sent me his two grand cooks, and a most cheer- 
ful party was predicted. The house had sat late that day, 
and etiquette never permitted us to go to dinner, where the 
speaker was a guest, until his arrival, unless he had especially 
desired us to do so. 

The speaker did not join us till nine o'clock, when Sir John 
Parnel brought with him, and introduced to me, Captain Welles- 
ley and Mr. Stewart, two young members, who having remained 
in the house, he had insisted on their coming with him to my 
dinner, where he told them good cheer and a hearty welcome 
would be found; and in this he was not mistaken. 



198 WELLINGTON AND LONDONDEERY. 

Captain Arthur Wellesley had, in 1790, been returned to 
parliament, for Trim, County Meath, a borough under the pa- 
tronage of his brother, the earl of Mornington. He was then 
ruddy-faced and juvenile in appearance, and popular enough 
among the young men of his age and station. His address 
was unpolished ; he occasionally spoke in parliament, but not 
successfully, and never on important subjects ; and evinced no 
promise of that unparalleled celebrity and splendor which he 
has since reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good 
luck and great military science, have justly combined to ele- 
vate him. 

Lord Oastlereagh was the son of Mr. Stewart, a country 
gentleman, generally accounted to be a very cleyer man, in 
the north of Ireland. He was a professed and hot very mod- 
erate patriot, and at one time carried his ideas of opposition 
exceedingly far, becoming a leading member of the reform and 
liberal societies. 

Lord Castlereagh began his career in the Irish parliament, 
by a motion for a committee to inquire into the representation 
of the people, with the ulterior object of a reform in parliament. 
He made a good speech and had a majority in the house, which 
he certainly did not expect, and I am sure did not wish for. 
He was unequal and unwilling to push that point to farther 
trial ; the matter cooled in a few days ; and after the next di- 
vision, was deserted entirely. Mr. Stewart, however, after that 
speech was considered as a very clever young man, and in all 
points well taught and tutored by his father, whose marriage 
with the marquis of Camden's sister, was the remote cause 
of all his future successes — how sadly terminated [ 

At the period to which I allude, I feel confident, nobody 
could have predicted that one of those young gentlemen would 
become the most celebrated English general of his era, and 
the other, one of the most mischievous statesmen and unfortu- 
nate ministers that has ever appeared in modern Europe. 
However, it is observable that to the personal intimacy and 
reciprocal friendship of those two individuals, they mutually 
owed the extent of their respective elevation and celebrity : 
Sir Arthur Wellesley never would have had the chief com- 



WELLnrGTON IX EARLY LIFE. 199 

mand in Spain, but for tlie ministerial manoeuvring and aid of 
Lord Castlereagli ; and Lord Oastlereagli never could have 
stood his ground as a minister, hut for Lord Wellington's suc- 
cesses. 

At my house, the evening passed amidst that glow of well- 
bred, witty, and cordial vinous conviviality, vdiich was, I be- 
lieve, peculiar to high society in Ireland. 

From that night I became rather intimate with Captain 
Wellesley and Mr, Stewart ; and perceived certain amiable 
qualities in both, which a change of times, or the intoxication 
of prosperity, certainly in some degree tended to diminish. 
Indeed, if Lord lYellington had continued until now the same 
frank, openhearted man, he certainly must have been better 
proof against those causes which usually excite a metamorpho- 
sis of human character than any one who had ever preceded 
him. Still, if possible, he would have been a greater man ; at 
least, he would have better drawn the distinction between a 
warrior and a hero — terms not altogether synonymous. Many 
years subsequently to the dinner-party I have mentioned, I 
one day met Lord Oastlereagli in the Strand, and a gentleman 
with him. His lordship stopped me, whereat I was rather sur- 
prised, as we had not met for some time ; he spoke very kindly, 
smiled, and asked if I had forgotten my old friend Sir Arthur 
Wellesley ? whom I discovered in his companion ; but looking 
so sallow and wan, and with every mark of Avhat is called a 
wornout man, that I was truly concerned at his appearance. 
But he soon recovered his healtli and looks, and went as the 
duke of Richmond's secretary to Ireland ; where he was in all 
material trjiits still Sir Arthur Wellesley — but it was Sir Ar- 
thur Wellesley judiciously improved. He had not forgotten 
his friends, nor did he forget himself. He said that he had ac- 
cepted the office of secretary only on the terms that it should 
not impede or interfere with his military pursuits ; and what 
he said proved true, for he was soon sent, as second in com- 
mand, with Lord Cathcart to Copenhagen, to break through 
the law of nations, and execute the most distinguished piece 
of treachery that history records. 

On Sir Arthur's return he recommenced his duty of secre- 



200 WELLINGTON AND LONDONDEEKY. 

taiy ; and during liis residence in Ireland, in that capacity, T 
did not hear one complaint against any part of his conduct 
either as a public or private man. He was afterward appointed 
to command in Spain ; an appointment solicited, and I believe 
expected, by Sir John Doyle. It might be entertaining to 
speculate on the probable state of Europe at present, if Sir 
John had been then appointed generalissimo. I do not mean 
to infer any disparagement to the talents of Sir John, but he 
might have pursued a different course, not calculated, as in 
Sir Arthur's instance, to have decided (for the time being) the 
fate of Europe. 

A few days before Sir Arthur's departure for Spain, I re- 
quested him to spend a day with me, which he did. The com- 
pany was not very large, but some of Sir Arthur's military 
friends were among the party : the late Sir Charles Asgill, the 
present General Meyrick, &c., &c. I never saw him more 
cheerful or happy. The bombardment of Copenhagen being 
by chance stated as a topic of remark, I did not join in its 
praise ; but, on the other hand, muttered that I never did nor 
should approve of it. 

" Damn it, Barrington," said Sir Arthur, " why ? what do 
you mean to say"?" — "I say. Sir Arthur," replied I, "that it 
was the very best devised, the very best executed, and the 
most just and necessary * robbery and murder' now on record !" 
He laughed, and adjourned to the drawing-room, where Lady 
B. had a ball and supper as a Jinisli for the departing hero. 

In 1815, having been shut up in Paris during the siege, I 
went out to Nivelly, to pay a visit to the duke before our troops 
got into the city. I had not seen him since the last day he 
dined at my own house ; but he had intermediately much 
changed. 

I knew his grace when Captain Wellesley — Sir Arthur 
Wellesley — Secretary Wellesley — Embassador Wellesley — 
and duke of Wellington. In the first stage of this career, I 
was his equal; in the last, nobody is. Hov^ever, it is a fine 
reflection for the contemporaries of great people, that it will 
be " all the same a hundred years hence!" and heroes and 
diplomatists, (fee, must either become very good-tempered fel- 



CAPITULATION OF PAKIS. 201 

lows wten they meet in tlie Elysian fields, or- — there must 
be a very strong police to keep them in order.* 

I was present in one of the French chambers when the ques- 
tion of capitulation was discussed ; and most undoubtedly Mar- 
shal Ney supported that measure upon the basis of a generul 
amnesty. On any other, it never would have been listened to ; 
the battle would have taken place early next morning ; and 
the duke of Wellington would have had to contest the most 
sanguinary and desperate engagement of his day with a numer- 
ous and well-appointed army, frantic with zeal to revenge their 
disgrace at Waterloo. This I know ; for I was (truly against 
the grain) kept more than twelve hours in the midst of it at 
Vilette, two days before the capitulation. Of this more will 
he seen on subsequent pages. I can not but remark, that if 
Ney had been pardoned, and the horses not sent to Venice, 
the spirit of the capitulation would have been more strictly 
adhered to. 

I must be rightly understood respecting Lord Londonderry, 
to whom, individually, I never had the slight objection. AsJ^r 
a private gentleman, I always found him friendly, though cold ; 
and fair, though ambiguous. I never knew him break his 
word, and believe him to have been perfectly honorable upon 
every subject of private interest. But here my eulogy must 
close ; for, with regard to public character, his lordship must, 
I fear, be pronounced corrupt. When determined on a point, 
nothing could stop him. In Ireland, his career was distin- 
guished by public bribery and palpable misrepresentations — 

* The following unpublished lines, by one of the most talented young 
ladies I ever met, depict the frivolity and short-lived nature of human van- 
ities more forcibly than a hundred sermons : — 

"The kingdoms of the world have passed away, 
And its strong empires mouldered into dust, 
Swift as the changes of a poet's dream: 
And kings and heroes, and the mighty minds 
Whose hopes circled eternity, and seized 
The stars as their inheritance, and grew 
Too big for mortal frames — -until they sank 
Into the narrow bounds of nature: — 
These are the things which, even nameless now, 
Are on the earth forgot — or, if retained, 
Of power, of life, and motion, all bereft 1" 

9* 



202 WELLINGTON AND LONDONDERRY. 

of which assertion, had I not indisputable and ample proof, I 
would not hazard it. 

Mr. Pelham (now earl of Chichester) was secretary to Lord 
Camden, when lord lieutenant. I had the good fortune and 
pleasure (for it was a great pleasure to me) to he on very 
friendly terms with this amiable and engaging gentleman, and 
have seldom met with any public personage I liked so well — 
moderate, honorable, sufficiently firm and sufficiently spirited : 
I had a real gratification in attaching myself not only to his 
measures, but to his society. In all our intercourse (which 
ceased with his departure) I found him candid and just, and 
experienced at his hands several public acts of kindness. 

Mr. Pelham's parliamentary talents were not of a splendid 
order. The people of Ireland never required stars for minis- 
ters ; but a fair and candid secretary was a great treat to them, 
and Mr. Pelham was making full way in public estimation. 
The last day I ever saw him in Ireland, he and his brother-in- 
law, Lord Sheffield, did me the favor of dining with me in 
Merrion square. I perceived he was uncommonly dull, and 
regretted the circumstances much ; he obviously grew worse — 
at length laid his head upon the table, and when he departed 
was extremely ill : next day he was in a violent fever, his life 
was long despaired of, he recovered with difficulty', and on his 
recovery returned to England. Mr. Stewart (by marriage the 
lord lieutenant's nephew) was named locum tenens during Mr. 
Pelham's absence, or (should he not return) until the appoint- 
ment of another secretary. But he was soon discovered by 
his employers to be fit for any business ; and as it had been 
long in the secret contemplation of the British ministry to ex- 
tinguish the Irish parliament, either by fraud or force — and 
Lord Camden being considered too inactive (perhaps too con- 
scientious and honorable) to resort to either of those weapons, 
it was determined to send over an old servant-of-all-work, who 
had fought till he was beaten, and negotiated till he was out- 
witted. This person (Lord Cornwallis), with the assistance of 
his young secretary, would stop at nothing necessary to effect 
the purpose, and they could between them, carry a measure 
which few other persons at that period, durst have attempted. 



THE OFFICE OF SOLICITOR-GENEEAL. 203 

These fragments are not intended as political episodes. Tlie' 
resLilt of tliat coalition everybody knows : I sliall only state 
so much of tlie transaction as relates to my own individual 
concerns. I liad an interview with Lord Oastlereagh, some 
time after he came into office, at Mr. Cooke's chambers. He 
told me he understood I expected to be the next solicitor-gen- 
eral, and had applied for the office. I answered, that I not 
only expected as much, but considered myself, under -all cir- 
cumstances, entitled to that preferment. He and Mr. Cooke 
both said "yes;" and recommended me to make mj ^' party 
good with Lord Clare," ^x\\o had expressed "no indisposition" 
to the appointment. Had I not been supposed of some use to 
the government, I do not doubt but Lord Clare w^ould have 
preferred many other more subservient gentry of my profes- 
sion. But he knew that although Lord Westmoreland, on 
leaving Ireland, had made no express stipulation, he had sub- 
sequently gone as far as he could with Lord Camden, for my 
promotion. Lord Clare played me oiF cleverly until, in the 
month of August, 1799, I was sent for in private by the secre- 
tary, Edward Cooke, who had been a particular confidential 
friend of mine for several years. Having first enjoined secresy 
as to our conference, he told me that a mieasure of great im- 
port had been under consideration in the English cabinet, and 
might possibly be acted on : and then proceeding to acquaint 
me that Lord Clare had made no objection to my promotion, 
he asked in so many words if I would support the " question 
of ' a union,' if it should be brought forward *?" I was struck 
as if by a shot ! I had no idea of such a thing being now 
seriously contemplated, although I had often heard of it as a 
measure suggested in 1763. My mind had never any doubts 
upon the degrading subject, all thoughts vrhereof had been 
considered as banished for ever by the volunteers of 1782. I 
therefore replied at once, "No, never !" — "You'll think better 
of it, Barrington!" said he. "Never, by — !" rejoined I: 
"never!" and the discussion Avas dropped, nor did I confide 
it to any save one individual, who differed with me very much, 
at least as to the mode of refusal. 

I was determined, however, to know how the matter really 



20tl: WELLINGTON AND LONDONDEEEY. 

stood ; and, without touching on the late conversation, desired 
to be apprized whether they preserved the intention of appoint- 
ing me solicitor-general. I received no other answer than the 
folloAving letter from Lord Castlereagh, without any explana- 
tion ; hut it was enveloped in a very long one from Mr. Cooke, 
headed "strictly private ;" and, therefore, of course, still re- 
maining so. 

" September 7, 1799. 
*' My Dear Sir : — I am directed by his excellency, the 
lord-lieutenant, to assure you, that he would be glad to avail 
himself, of any proper opportunity of complying with your 
wishes : and that he regrets much, he is at present so particu- 
larly circumstanced with respect to the office of solicitor- 
general, that he feels it impossible to gratify your desire as to 
that appointment. I should, myself, have been very happy 
had I been able to communicate to you a more favorable result. 

Dear sir, yours very sincerely, 

'• Castlereagh." 

I never had anything more to do with the successive govern- 
ments of Ireland,* and have used all forbearance in giving my 
opinion of Irish lord-chancellors, except Mr. Ponsonby, whom 
nobody ever healed me praise as a very great lawyer, but whom 
everybody has heard me term a just judge, and an honest, 
friendly man. 

Of Lord Camden, I believe, there was no second opinion in 
the circle wherein 1 moved — a better man could not be; but 
instead of governing, he was governed : and intimately ac- 
quainted as I was Avith every procedure and measure during 
his administration in Ireland, I do most fully acquit him, 
individually, of the outrageous, impolitic, and ill-judged meas- 
ures which distinguished his rule. As to Lord Clare, he was 
despotic, and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had. His father 
had been a Roman catholic, and intended for a priest, but 
changed his tenets, became a barrister of great and just celeb- 
rity, and left many children. 

* Lord .Castlereagh's letter to me put, in fact, a civil end to my dreams 
of promotion. 



QTJAEKEL ^VITH LOED NOEBUKY. 205 

Lord Clare Avas latterly mj most inveterate enemy ; the 
cause shall he no secret ; it arose from a vicions littleness of 
mind scarcely credihle, and proves to^me that implacability of 
temper never exists without its attendant faults ; and although 
it may he deprecated hy cringing, is seldom influenced hy 
feelings of generosity- 



LOED NORBUEY. 

Quarrel between Lord Norbury and the Author in the House of Commons — Curran's Bon- 
mot — Dinner at Lord Redesdale's, who attempts being Agreeable, but is annoyed by 
Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) — Counsellor O'Farrell — Mr. Plunkett (present Attorney- 
General for Ireland), and Lord Redesdale — Lord Norbury and Young Burke — His Lord- 
ship presides at Carlow Assizes in the Character of Hawthorn. 

Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) went circuit as judge the 
first circuit I went as barrister. He continued my friend as 
warmly as he possibly could be the friend of any one, and I 
thought he was in earnest. One evening, however, coming hot 
from Lord Clare's (at that time my proclaimed enemy), he 
attacked me with an after-dinner volubility, which hurt and 
roused me very much. I kept indifferent bounds myself: but 
he was generally so very good-tempered, that I really felt a 
repugnance to indulging him with as tart a reply as a stranger 
would have received, and simply observed, that " I should only 
just give him that character Avhich developed itself by his 
versatility — namely, that he liad a liand for every man, and a 
heart for nobody /" and I believe the sarcasm has stuck to him 
from that day to this. He returned a very warm answer, gave 
me a wink, and made his exit — of course, I followed. The 
sergeant-at-arms was instantly sent by the speaker to pursue 
us with his attendants, and to bring both refractory members 
back to the house. Toler was caught by the skirts of his coat 
fastening in a door, and they laid hold of him just as the skirts 
were torn completely off. I was overtaken (while running 
away) in Nassau street, and, as I resisted, was brought like a 
sack on a man's shoulders, to the admiration of the mob, and 
thrown down in the body of the house. The speaker told us, 



206 LOED NOEBURY. 

we must give our honors fortliwith that the matter should 
proceed no farther. Toler got up to defend himself; but as he 
then had no skirts to his coat, made a most ludicrous figure ; 
and CuiTan put a finishing-stroke to the comicality of the scene, 
by gravely saying, that '* it was the most unparalleled insult 
ever ofiered to the house ! as it appeared that one honorable 
member had trirrmied another honorable member's^Vzc^e^^ within 
these walls, and nearly within view of the speaker!" A 
general roar of laughter ensued. I gave my honor, as required, 
I think with more good-will than Toler; and would willingly 
have forgotten the affair altogether, which he apparently never 
did. I only hope, that, when his memory declines (which time 
can not be very far off now), our quarrel will be the first circum- 
stance that slips it. If I could forget anything, I should long 
ago have lost all recollection thereof. 

Lord Norbury had more readiness of repartee than any man 
I ever knew who possessed neither classical wit nor genuine 
sentiment to make it valuable. But he had a fling at every- 
thing; and, failing in one attempt, made another — sure of 
carrying his point before he relinquished his efforts. His 
extreme good temper was a great advantage. The present 
Lord Redesdale was much (though unintentionally) annoyed 
by Mr. Toler, at one of the first dinners he gave (as lord-chan- 
cellor of Ireland) to the judges and king's counsel. Having 
heard that the members of the Irish bar (of whom he was then 
quite ignorant) were considered extremely witty, and being 
desirous, if possible, to adapt himself to their habits, his lord- 
ship had obviously got together some of his best bar-remarks 
(for of wit he was totally guiltless, if not inapprehensive), to 
repeat to his company, as occasion might offer ; and if he could 
not be humorous, determined at least to be entertaining. 

The first of his lordship's observations after dinner, was the 
telling us that he had been a Welsh judge, and had found 
great difficulty in pronouncing the double consonants which 
occur in the Welsh proper names. " After much trial," con- 
tinued his lordship, " I found that the difficulty was mastered by 
moving the tongue alternately from one dog-tooth to the other." 

Toler seemed quite delighted with this discovery j and re- 



HIS READINESS OF REPARTEE. 207 

quested to know liis lordsliip's dentist, as lie had lost one of 
his dog-teeth, and would immediately get another in place of 
it. This went off flatly enough — no, laugh being gained on 
either side. 

Lord Redesdale's next remark was, that when he was a lad, 
cock-fighting was the fashion ; and that both ladies and gen- 
tlemen went full-dressed to the cock-pit, the ladies being in 
hoops. 

" I see now, my lord," said Toler, " it was then that the 
term cock-a-hoop was invented." 

A general laugh now burst forth, which rather discomposed 
the learned chancellor. He sat for a while silent ; until ska- 
ting became a subject of conversation, when his lordship rallied 
— and with an air of triumph said, that in his boyhood all 
danger was avoided ; for, before they began to skate they 
always put blown bladders under their arms ; and so, if the ice 
happened to break, they were buoyant and saved. 

"Ay, my lord !" said Toler, " that's what we call blatheram- 
skate in Ireland,"* 

His lordship did not understand the sort of thing at. all ; and, 
though extremely courteous, seemed to wish us all at our 
respective homes. Having failed with Toler, in order to say 
a civil thing or two, he addressed himself to Mr. Garrat O'Far- 
rall, a jolly Irish barrister, who always carried a parcel of 
coarse, national humor about with him ; a broad, squat, ruddy- 
faced fellow, with a great aquiline nose and a humorous eye. 
Independent in mind and property, he generally said whatever 
came uppermost. " Mr. Garrat O'Farrell," said the chancellor, 
^solemnly, " I believe your name and family were very respecta- 
ble and numerous in County Wicklow. I think I was intro- 
duced to several of them during my late tour there." 

" Yes, my lord," said O'Farrell, "we icere very numerous : 
but so many of us have been lately hanged for sheep-stealing, 
that the name is getting rather scarce in that county." 

His lordship said no more, and so far as respect for a new 
chancellor admitted, we got into our own line of conversation 
without his assista^nce. His lordship, by degrees, began to un- 
* An Irish vulgar idiom for " nonsense.^^ 



208 LORD NOEBURY. 

derstand some jokes a few minutes after they A\^ere uttered. 
An occasional smile discovered Lis enlightenment ; and, at the 
breaking up, I really think his impression was, that we were a 
pleasant, though not very comprehensible race, possessing at a 
dinner-table much more goodTfellowship than special pleading ; 
and that he would have a good many of his old notions to get 
rid of before he could completely cotton to so dissimilar a body : 
but he was extremely polite. Chief Justice Downs, and a few 
more of our high, cold sticklers for " decorum," were quite 
uneasy at this skirmishing. 

I never met a cold-blooded ostentatious man of office, whom 
I did not feel pleasure in mortifying : an affectation of sang- 
froid is necessary neither to true dignity nor impo.rtance, and 
generally betrays the absence of many amiable qualities. 

I never saw Lord E,edesdale more puzzled than at one of 
Plunkett's hestjeux Wespriis. A cause was argued in chancery, 
wherein the plaintiff prayed that the defendant should be re- 
strained from suing him on certain bills of exchange, as they 
were nothing but hites. " Kites !" exclaimed Lord E-edesdale : 
" Kites, Mr. Plunkett ? Kites never could amount to the value 
of those securities ! I don't understand this statement at all, 
Mr. Plunkett." 

" It is not to be expected that you should, my lord," answer- 
ed Plunkett, " in England and in Ireland, kites are quite 
different things. In England, the wind raises the kites; but 
in Ireland, the kites raise the wind. 

" I do not feel any way better informed yet, Mr. Plunkett," 
said the matter-of-fact chancellor. 

" Well, my lord, I'll explain the thing without mentioning 
those birds of prey," and therewith he elucidated the difficulty. 

Lord Eedesdale never could pronounce the name of Mr. Qol- 
clough, a suitor in the chancery court. It was extremely 
amusing to hear how he labored to get it off his tongue, but 
quite in vain ! Oallcloff was his nearest effort. I often wished 
I could recommend him to try his dog-teeth. 

On the discussion of the catholic bill, in 1792, Lord West- 
moreland, then lord-lieutenant of Ireland, certainly did not 
approve of the precipitate measures wished for by his secretary, 



TOTJNa BTJEKE AND THE CATHOLIC PETITION. 209 

Major Hobart, afterward earl of Bnckinglianisliire. I had the 
honor of distinctly knoAving the sentiments of both, and clearly 
saw the shades of difference which existed between them, but 
which, of course, I had not the presumption to notice. I felt 
convinced that both were my friends, and was desirous, if pos- 
sible, to run counter to neither. 

I never had disputed the political right of the catholics 
theoretically, but I had been bred up among Williamites, and 
had imbibed, without very well understanding their bearing, 
strong protestant principles, and hence I deemed it wisest 
neither to speak nor vote upon the subject at that period. 

The Irish catholics had conceived a wonderfully high opinion 
of Mr. Edmund Burke's assistance and abilities. Because he 
was a clever man himself, they conceived his son must needs 
be so too, and a deputation was sent over to induce young Mr. 
Burke to come to Ireland, for the purpose of superintending 
the progress of their bills of emancipation in the Irish parlia- 
ment, and to bear his expenses, a sum of c£2000 was voted. Mr. 
Keogh, of Dublin, a very sensible man, who had retired from 
trade, was extremely active upon this occasion. 

The bills were introduced and resisted. A petition had been 
prepared by Burke, and being considered neither well-timed 
nor well-worded, certain even of the warmest catholic sup- 
porters declined to present it. 

Young Burke, either totally ignorant of parliamentary rules, 
or supposing that in a disturbed country like Ireland they 
would be dispensed with — especially in favor of a son of the 
great Burke — determined he would present the petition him- 
self ; not at the bar, but in the body of the house ! Accord- 
ingly, he descended from the gallery, walked into the house 
with a long roll of parchment under his arm, and had arrived 
near the treasury -bench, when a general cry of ." Privilege I — 
A stranger in the house !" arose from all quarters, and checke-d 
the progress of the intruder ; but when the speaker, in his loud 
and dignified tone, called out, " Sergeant-at-arms, do your 
duty !" it seemed to echo like thunder in Burke's ears ; he felt 
the awkwardness of his situation, and ran toward the bar. 
Here he was met by the sergeant-at-arms with a drawn sword ; 



210 LOED NOEBUKY. 

retracing his steps, lie was stopped by tlie clerk ; and the ser- 
geant gaining on liim, witli a feeling of trepidation he com- 
menced actual flight. The door-keepers at the corridor now 
joined in pursuit ; hut at length, after an excellent chase (the 
members all keeping their seats), he forced through the enemy 
behind the speaker's chair, and escaped ! no doubt, to his great 
satisfaction. Strong measures Avere immediately proposed : 
messengers despatched in all quarters to arrest him : very few 
knew who he was ; when Lord Norbury, with that vivacious 
promptness which he always possessed, on its being observed 
that no such transaction had ever occurred before, exclaimed — 
" I found the very same incident some few days back in the 
cross-readings of the columns of a newspaper. 'Yesterday a 
petition was presented to the house of commons — ^ it fortunately 
missed fire, and the villain ran off.' " 

It was impossible to withstand this sally, which put the house 
in a moment into good humor. Burke returned to England 
unsuccessful, and the matter dropped. 

It being observed by some member, that the sergeant-at-arms 
should have stopped the man at the back-door, Sir Boyle E-oche 
very justly asked the honorable gentleman — " Hoav could the 
sergeant-at-arms stop him in the rear, while he was catching 
him in the front ? did he think the sergeant-at-arms could be, 
like a bird, in two places at once ?" 

I read, some time back, in the English newspapers, an anec- 
dote of Lord Norbury's having appeared on the bench in a 
masquerade dress. As I was myself present at that occurrence, 
it is only just to his lordship to state the facts, whence it will 
appear that it was totally a mistake ; so much so, indeed, that 
his lordship did not seem to be conscious of his habiliments, 
even while every person in court was staring with astonishment. 

Some time previously. Lady Castlereagh had given a very 
splendid masquerade, at which I saw the chief justice in the 
dress and character of HatotJwrn, in " Love in a Village," and 
well did he enact that part. ^The dress was a green tabinet 
with mother-of-pearl buttons, striped yellow-and-black waist- 
coat, and buff breeches, and was altogether cool and light. 

On going the next circuit, the weather being excessively 



ON THE BENCH IN MASQUERADE-DRESS. 211 

sultry, and his lordship having a great press of sentences to 
pass on rebels, &c., at Carlow, he put on, under his robes, the 
lightest vestments in his lordship's wardrobe. Now, be it re- 
membered, that the use of the said masquerade-dress was a 
dead secret except to the robes that covered it, and neither the 
passing nor future generations would ever have heard a word 
of the green jacket, if the said robes had kept themselves close, 
as the chief justice had carefully provided before the sounding 
of the trumpet. 

The warmth of the day, however, and the variety of appro- 
priate addresses necessary to be framed, for so many convicted 
criminals, might be expected to take away a certain quantity 
of any man's precaution ; and, as a chief justice is but a man, 
Lord Norbury fell into the snare ! and feeling the heat insuffer- 
able (which the twisting his wig sidewise did not relieve), he 
involuntarily first turned up the sleeves of his robe, then 
loosened the zone round his waist : the robe being now free 
from all restraint, thought it had a right to steal away from the 
green jacket; and thus the unconscious chief justice "stood 
confessed" to the auditory in the courthouse as the representa- 
tive of a very different character from that of a judge ! But 
it was an accident that might, without culpability, have hap- 
pened even to an archbishop ! I once saw a bishop, myself, 
play the fiddle at one of the public concerts of the first Lady 
Westmoreland, in Dublin castle. 

It is only justice to Lord Norbury to add, that I have re- 
peatedly seen him do things involuntarily, which it would have 
been totally impossible for him to have done, if conscious at 
the time,^of his own actions. Though acute in general, he 
occasionally thought of so many things at once, that he lost all 
recollection whether of place or circumstance. 



212 HENRY GRATTAN. 



HENRY GEATTAN. 

Mr. Grattan in his Sedan-chair — The Point of Honor — Mr. Egan'g gift of Second-sight — The 
Guillotine and Executioner — Colonel Burr, Vice-Presicient of the United States, and Mr. 
Randolph — Mr. Grattan in Masquerade — Death of that Illustrious Patriot, and Strictures 
on his Interment in Westminster Abbej^ — Letter from the Author to his Son, Henry 
Grattan, Esq. 

Many anecdotes occur to me of my late respected friend, Mr. 
Grattan. There are but few, however, which can throw fresh 
light upon a character so long and so generally known, and 
which exhibited unvarying excellence. 

I never met any man who possessed the general elements of 
courage in a higher degree than Mr. Grattan — in whom dwelt 
a spirit of mild yet impetuous bravery, which totally banished 
all apprehensions of danger. 

I have already given some account of my contest for Dublin 
city, and of the circumstances connecting my illustrious friend 
therewith. Qn the evening of the first day of polling, while 
I sat at dinner, a servant announced that a gentleman in a 
sedan-chair was at the door and wished to speak to me. I im- 
mediately went out, and finding it was Grattan, begged him to 
enter the house, upon which he desired his chair to be taken 
into the hall. His manner was so agitated and mysterious, 
that I felt quite alarmed, and feared something untoward had 
happened to him. We went into a parlor, where, without any 
introductory observation, he exclaimed — " Barrington, I must 
have a shot at that rascal !" ^ 

*' Heavens !" said I, " what rascal 1" 

" There is but one such in the world !" cried he, " that Giffard !" 

"My dear Grattan," I replied, "you can not be serious; 
there is no ground for a challenge on your part ; your lan- 
guage to him was such as never before was used to human 
creature ; and if he survives your words, no bullet would have 
effect on him." 

"Ah, that won't do, Barrington!" exclaimed Gratton; "he 
objected to my voting for you, because, he said, I was a * dis- 
carded corporator.' " 



THE POINT OF ho:noe. 213 

" That was not intended as personalf'^ said I ; " and even 
had he gained his point, Avould it not be an honor for you to he 
removed from such a corporation 1" 

" Barrington," rejoined he, " it's of no use ! I must have a 
shot at the fellow ; I can't sleep unless you go to him for me." 
This I peremptorily refused ; arguing and reasoning with him 
again and again ; he still continuing obstinate, I begged him 
to go and ask the advice of Mr. George Ponsonby. 

" Oh, no," replied he, " Ponsonby is a wise man ; wiser than 
either of us : in fact, he is sometimes too wise and too peace- 
able. You must go to Giffard : perhaps it may not be wise, but 
I know you prefer your friend's honor to your friend's safety. 
Come, now, ^^t your hat, Barrington!" 

Upward of an hour elapsed before I could even half con- 
vince him that he was wrong ; but at length, by the only argu- 
ment that could make any impression on him, I extracted a 
promise that he would let the affair drop : " Grattan," said I, 
" recollect matters, and have consideration for meJ^ He start- 
ed : " Yes," continued I, " you know it was solely on my 
account that you exposed yourself to any insult : and do you 
think I could remain an idle spectator in a conflict whereof I 
was the cause ? If you do not promise me that you will go 
* no farther in this business,' I shall instantly make the thing 
personal with Giffard my self ^ 

For a moment he was silent, then smiling — " Coriolanus," 
said he, "replied to his noble parent — 'Mother! you have 
conquered !' — I will go no farther." 

" I humbly thank you," said I, " for making an old woman 
of me." He then went away, as I conceived, satisfied. He 
had come thus privately (for the curtains were drawn round his 
chair) to avoid suspicion being excited of his intentions, and 
the authorities consequently interfering to prevent the combat. 
My surprise may be imagined, when at six o'clock the next 
morning, I was roused by the same announcement of a gentle- 
man in a chair. I knew it must be Grattan, and directed him 
to be brought in. 

I had now the same game to play over again. He said he 
had not slept a wink all night, from thinking about " that 



214 HENET GKATTAN. 

rascal;" and that lie "must liave a sliot at him." Another 
course now suggested itself to me, and I told him I had, on 
consideration, determined, whether right or wrong, that if he 
persevered, I would wait upon the sheriff and get him bound 
over to keep the peace. He was not pleased at this, but had 
no option, and u.ltimately we both agreed not to revive the 
subject during the election. 

Mr. Egan, one of the rovighest-looking persons possible, being 
at one time a supporter of government, made virulent philippics, 
in the Irish house of commons, against the French revolution. 
His figure was coarse and bloated, and his dress not over 
elegant withal; in fact, he had by no means the look of a 
member of parliament. 

One evening this man fell foul of a speech of Grattan's, and 
among other absurdities, said in his paroxysm, that the right 
honorable gentleman's speech had a tendency to introduce the 
guillotine into the very body of the house : indeed, he almost 
thought he could already perceive it before him. (" Hear him ! 
Hear him!" echoed from Sir Boyle Roche.) Grattan good- 
humoredly replied, that the honorable gentleman must have a 
vastly sharper sight than he had. He certainly could see no 
such thing; "but though," added Glrattan, looking with his 
glass toward Egan, " I may not see the guillotine, yet methinks 
I can perceive the executioner T 

"Order! Order!" shouted Sir Boyle Roche, but a general 
laugh prevented any farther observation. 

Colonel Burr, who had been vice-president of America, and ^ | 
probably would have been the next president, but for his un-. ^V' 
fortunate duel with General Hamilton,, came over to England, ' 
and was made known to me by Mr. Randolph, of South Caro- 
lina, with whom I was very intimate. He requested I Avould 
introduce him to Mr. Grattan, whom he was excessively anxious 
to see. ^ Colonel Burr was not a man of a very prepossessing 
appearance ;"^rough -featured and neither dressy nor polished ; 
but a well-informed, sensible man, and though not a particularly 
agreeable, yet an instructive companion. ' 

People in general form extravagant anticipations regarding 
eminent persons. The idea of a great orator and an Irish 



YISITED BY AARON BUEK. 215 

chief carried with it, naturallj enough, corresponding notions 
of physical elegance, vigor and dignity. Such was Colonel' 
Burr's mistake, I believe, about Mr. Grattan, and I took care 
not to undeceive him. 

We went to my friend's house, Avho was to leave London 
next day. I announced that Colonel Burr, from America, Mr. 
Randolph, and myself, wished to pay our respects, and the 
servant informed us that his master would receive us in a short 
time, but was at the moment much occupied on business of con- 
sequence. Burr's expectations were all on the alert ! Ran- 
dolph also was anxious to be presented to the great Grattan, 
and both impatient for the entrance of this Demosthenes. At 
length the door opened, and in hopped a small bent figure, 
m^eager, yellow, and ordinary; one slipper and one shoe; his 
breeches' knees loose ; his cravat hanging down ; his shirt 
and coat-sleeves tucked up high, and an old hat upon his 
head. 

This apparition saluted the strangers very courteously, 
asked, without any introduction, how long they had been in 
England, and immediately proceeded to make inquiries about 
the late General Washington and the revolutionary war. My 
companions looked at each other : their replies were costive, 
and they seemed quite impatient to see Mr. Grattan. I could 
scarcely contain myself, but determined to let my eccentric 
countryman take his course, who appeared quite delighted to 
see his visiters, and was the most inquisitive person in the 
world. Randolph was far the tallest and most dignified look- 
ing man of the two, gray-haired and well-dressed ; Grattan 
therefore, of course, took him for the vice-president, and ad- 
dressed him accordingly. Randolph at length begged to know 
if they could shortly have the honor of seeing Mr. Grattan. 
Upon which our host, not doubting but they knew him, con- 
ceived it must be his son James for whom they inquired, and 
said he believed he had that moment wandered out somewhere 
to amuse himself. 

This completely disconcerted the Americans, and they were 
about to make their bow and their exit, when I thought it high 
time to explain ; and, taking Colonel Burr and Mr. Randolph 



216 HENEY GKATTAN. 

respectively by tlie hand, introduced them to the Right Hon- 
orable Henry Grattan. 

I never saw people stare so, or so much embarrassed ! Grat- 
tan himself, now perceiving the cause, heartily joined in my 
merriment. He pulled down his shirt-sleeves, pulled up his 
stockings, and in his own irresistible way apologized for the 
outre figure he cut, assuring them that he had totally overlooked 
it in his anxiety not to keep them waiting ; that he was re- 
turning to Ireland next morning, and had been busily packing 
up his books and papers in a closet full of dust and cobwebs ! 
This incident rendered the interview more interesting. The 
Americans were charmed with their reception, and, after a 
protracted visit, retired highly gratified, while Grattan re- 
turned again to his books and cobwebs. 

Nobody lamented more than myself the loss of this distin- 
guished man and true patriot, who, every one knows, breathed 
his last in the British metropolis after a long and painful ill- 
ness ; and the public papers soon after announced, to my aston- 
ishment and chagrin, the fact of preparations being on foot for 
his interment iii Westminster abbey ! I say to my astonish- 
ment and chagrin ; because it was sufficiently plain that this 
affected mark of respect was only meant to restrain the honest 
enthusiasm which might have attended his funeral obsequies 
in his own country. 

The subtle minister then ruling the councils of Britain knew 
full well that vanity is the falsest guide of human judgment, 
and therefore held out that Westminster abbey (the indiscrim- 
inate dormitory of generals and spies — of ministers, and admi- 
rals, and poets) was the most honorable resting-place for the 
remains of an Irish patriot, and an humble gravestone most 
congenial to Grattan's unassuming nature. This lure was suc- 
cessful ; and, accordingly, he who had made British ministers 
tremble in the cabinet — whose forbearance they had propi- 
tiated by a tender of the king's best palace in Ireland — whose 
fame they had nevertheless endeavored to destroy, and whose 
principles they had calumniated — was escorted to the grave 
by the most decided of his enemies, and (as if in mocker}^ of 
his country and himself) inhumed among the inveterate foes 



HIS INTEEMENT IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 217 

of Ireland and of Grattan ! It is mean to say tliat Lord Oas-, 
tlereagh had latterly cJianged his opinion, and become civil to 
Ms illustrious opponent : so mucli the worse ! he thereby con- 
fessed that, in 1797 and the two foHowing years, he had la- 
bored to destroy an innocent man and to disgrace an Irish pa- 
triot, who, during a great portion of that period, lay on the 
bed of sickness. 

The duke of Leinster, doubtless with the best possible mo- 
tives, but with a view of the subject differing from my own, 
suggested that Ireland should do honor to her patriot son by 
erecting a cenotaph to his memory. This, I must confess, 
appears to me (I speak of it merely as matter of opinion) to 
be nothing more than cold-blooded mockery — a compliment 
diminutive and empty. Toward such a monument I would 
not subscribe one farthing ; but if the revered ashes of my 
friend could be restored to his country, and enshrined beneath 
the sky of green Erin, there is no Irishman who (in propor- 
tion to his means) should go beyond myself in contributing 
to uplift a monumental column which should outvie the pil- 
lars dedicated in Dublin to the glorious butcheries of Traf- 
algar and Waterloo : while these are proudly commemorated, 
no national pile records the more truly glorious triumphs of 
1782 — nor the formation of that irresistible army of volunteers 
which (in a right cause) defied all the power of England ! But 
my voice shall not be silent : and deeply do I regret the un- 
toward fate by which this just tribute to national and individ- 
ual virtues has devolved upon the feeble powers of an almost 
superannuated Avriter. 

Ireland gave me birth and bread ; and though I am disgust- 
ed with its present state, I love the country still. I have en- 
deavored to give (in a more important work) some sketches of 
its modern history at the most prosperous epochas, together 
with many gloomy anecdotes of its fall, and annihilation as an 
independent kingdom ; and if God grants me a little longer 
space, I shall leave my honest ideas of its existing condition 
and of the ruin to which the British empire will .not long re- 
main blind, if she continue to pursue the same system in that 
misgoverned country. ' 

10 



218 HENRY GEATTAN. 

Extract of a letter from Sir Jonah Barrington to tlie present 
Henry Grattan, Esq.. M. P. : — 

*' My Dear Grattan : I regret your not receiving my let- 
ter, written immediately after the lamented departure of my 
honored friend. In that letter I proposed forthwith to publish 
the sequel of my character of Mr. Grattan, accompanied with 
his portrait and some additional observations. I had composed 
the sequel, much to my own satisfaction, aa. the continuation 
of his character promised in the number of my historical work 
where I say, ' His career is not yet finished.' 

" Having received no reply to that letter, I threw the manu- 
script into the fire, keeping no copy. It was scarcely consumed, 
however, before I repented of having done so.. 

"And now permit an old and sensitive friend to expostulate 
a little with you, in the simple garb of queries : — 

"Why, and for what good reason — with what policy, or on 
what feeling — are the bones of the most illustrious of Irish- 
men suffered to moulder in the same ground with his country's 
enemies 1 

" Why suffer him to be escorted to the grave by the mock 
pageantry of those whose vices and corruptions ravished from 
Ireland everything which his talents and integrity had ob- 
tained for her ? 

" Why send his countrymen on a foreign pilgrimage, to wor- 
ship the shrine of their canonized benefactor ? Were not the 
cathedrals of Ireland worthy to be honored by his urn — or 
the youths of Erin to be animated by knowing that they 
possessed his ashes 1 Can it be gratifying to the feelings of 
his countrymen to pay the sexton of a British abbey a merce- 
nary shilling for permission even to see the gravestone of your 
parent ]* 

" You were deceived by the blandishments of our mortal 
enemy : he knew that political idolatry has great power, and 
excites great influence in nations. The sbrine of a patriot has 
often proved to be the standard of liberty : and it was there- 

.* I was myself once refused even admittance into Westminster abbey, 
wherein his ashes rest! — the sexton affirming that the proper hour was past! 



LORD ALDBOKOUGH S CHANCEKY SUIT. 219 

fore good policy in a Britisli statesmaij to suppress our excite- 
ments. The bust of E-ousseaii is immortalized on the conti- 
nent : the tradition of Grattan only will remain to his com- 
patriots. 

" He lived the life — he died the death — but he does not 
sleep in the tomb of an Irish patriot ! England has taken 
away our constitution, and even the relics of its founder are 
retained through the duplicity of his enemy. 

" You have now my sentiments on the matter, and by frankly 
expressing them I have done my duty to you, to myself and my 
country. Your ever affectionate and sincere friend, 

" Jonah Barrington." 



HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

Lord Aldborough quizzes the Lord-Chancellor — Voted a Libeller by the House of Peers — 
His splrired Conduct — Sentenced to Impii>:onment in Nevvoate by the Court of King's 
Bench — Memoirs of Mr. Knaresborough — His Extraordinary Trial — Sentenced to D^ath, 
but transported — Escapes from Botany Buy, returns to Euirland, and is cnmmitted to 
Newgate, where he seduces Lady Aldborough's Attendant — Prizes in the Lottery^Miss 
Barton dies in Misery. 

Lord Aldborough was an arrogant and ostentatious man; 
but these failings were nearly redeemed by his firmness and 
gallantry in his memorable collision with Lord-Chancellor 
Clare. 

Lord Aldborough, who had built a most tasteful and hand- 
some house immediately at the northern extremity of Dublin, 
had an equity suit with Mr. Beresford, a nephew of Lord Clare, 
as to certain lots of ground close to his lordship's new mansion, 
which, among other conveniences, had a chapel on one wing 
and a theatre on the other, stretching away from the centre in 
a chaste style of ornamental architecture. 

The cause was in chancery, and was not protracted very 
long. Lord Aldborough was defeated, with full costs : his 
pride, his purse, and his mansion, must all suffer, and meddling 
with either of these was sufficient to rouse his lordship's spleen. 
He appealed, therefore, to the house of peers, where in duo 



220 HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

season the cause came on for hearing, and where the chancel- 
lor himself presided. The lay lords did not much care to in- 
terfere in the matter ; and, without loss of time, Lord Clare of 
the house of peers confirmed the decree of Lord Clare of the 
court of chancery, with full costs against the appellant. 

Lord Aldborough had now no redress but to write at the, 
lord-chancellor ; and without delay he fell to composing a book 
against Lord Clare and the system of appellant jurisdiction — 
stating that it was totally an abuse of justice to be obliged to 
appeal to a prejudiced man against his own prejudices, and 
particularly so in the present instance. Lord Clare being noto- 
rious as an unforgiving chancellor to those who vexed him, 
and no lords attending to hear the cause, or if they did, not 
being much wiser for the hearing— it being the -province of a 
counsel to puzzle not to inform noblemen. 

Lord Aldborough, in his book, humorously enough stated an 
occurrence that had happened to himself when travelling in 
Holland : — 

His lordship was going to Amsterdam on one of the canals^ 
in a trekscliuit — the skipper of which, being a great rogue, ex- 
torted from his lordship, for his passage, much more than he 
had a lawful right to claim. My lord expostulated with the 
skipper in vain; the fellow grew rude; his lordship persisted; 
the skipper got more abusive. At length Lord Aldborough 
told him he would, on landing, immediately go. to the proper 
tribunals and get redress from the judge. The skipper cursed 
him as an impudent milord, and desired him to do his worst, 
snapping his tarry Jinger-posts in his lordship's face. Lord 
Aldborough paid the demand, and, on landing, went to the 
legal officer to know when the court of justice would sit. He 
was answered, " At nine next morning." Having no doubt of 
ample redress, he did not choose to put the skipper on his 
guard by mentioning his intentions. Next morning he went 
to court and began to tell his story to the judge, who sat with 
his broad-brimmed hat on, in great state, to hear causes of that 
nature. His lordship fancied he had seen the man before, nor 
was he long in doubt ; for, ere he had half finished, the judge, 
in a voice like thunder (but which his lordship immediately 



QUIZZING THE LOED-CHANCELLOR. 221 

recognised, for it was that of the identical skipper), decided' 
against him, with full costs, and ordered him out of court ! His 
lordship, however, said he would appeal, and away he went to 
an advocate for that purpose. He did accordingly appeal, and 
the next day his appeal cause came regularly on. But all his 
lordship's stoicism forsook him when he again found that the 
very same *skipper and judge was to decide the appeal who had 
decided the cause ; so that the learned skipper first cheated and 
then laughed at him ! 

The noble writer having, in his book, made a very improper 
and derogatory application of his Dutch precedent to Lord- 
Chancellor Clare and the Irish appellant jurisdiction, was 
justly considered by his brother-peers as having committed a 
gross breach of their privileges, and was thereupon ordered to 
attend in his place and defend himself (if any defence he had) 
from the charge made against him by the lord-chancellor and 
the peers of Ireland. Of course, the house of lords was thronged 
to excess to hear his lordship's vindication. I went an hour 
before it met, to secure a place behind the throne, where the 
commoners were allowed to crowd up as well as they could. 

The chancellor, holding the vicious book in his hand, asked 
Lord Aldborough if he admitted that it was of his writing and ' 
publication; to which his lordship replied that he could admit 
nothing as written or published by him, till every word of it 
should be first truly read to their lordships aloud in the house. 
Lord Clare, wishing to curtail some parts, began to read it 
himself, but not being quite near enough to the light, his oppo- 
nent took a pair of enormous candlesticks from the table, walked 
deliberately up to the throne, and requested the chancellor's 
permission to hold the candles for him while he Avas reading 
the book! This novel sort of effrontery put the chancellor 
completely off his guard : he was outdone, and permitted Lord 
Aldborough to hold the lights while he perused the libel com- 
paring him to a Dutch skipper,; nor did the obsequious author 
omit to set him right here and there when he omitted a word 
or proper emphasis. It was ludicrous beyond example, and 
gratifying to the secret ill-wishers of Lord Clare, who bore no 
small proportion to the aggregate numbers of the house. The 



222 HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

libel being duly read througli, Lord Aldborougli at once spirit- 
edly and adroitly said that he avowed every word of it to their 
lordships ; but that it was not intended as any libel against 
either the house or the jurisdiction, but as a constitutional and 
just rebuke to their lordships for not performing their bounden 
duty in attending the hearing of the appeal ; he being quite 
certain that if any sensible men had been present, the lord- 
chancellor would only have had two lords and two bishops (his 
own creatures) on his side of the question. 

This was considered as an aggravation of the contempt, 
though some thought it was not very far from the matter of 
fact. The result was, that after a bold speech, delivered with 
great earnestness, his lordship was voted guilty . of a high 
breach of privilege, and a libel on the lord-chancellor, as 
chairman of the house. He was afterward ordered to Newgate 
for six months by the court of king's bench (on an information 
filed against him by the attorney-general), which sentence, his 
lordship told them, he considered, under the circumstances, as 
a high compliment and honor. In fact, he never was so pleased 
as when speaking of the incident, and declaring that he ex- 
pected to have his book recorded on the journals of the lords; 
the chancellor himself (by applying his anecdote of the Dutch 
skipper) having construed it into a regular episode on their 
proceedings. 

Lord Aldborough underwent his full sentence in Newgate ; 
and his residence there gave rise to a fresh incident in the 
memoirs of a very remarkable person, who, at that time, T^as an 
inmate of the same walls (originally likewise through the 
favor of Chancellor Clare), and lodged on the same staircase ; 
and, as I had been professionally interested in this man's 
affairs, I subjoin the following statement as curious, and in 
every circumstance, to my personal knowledge, matter of fact. 

James Fitzpatrick Knaresborough was a young man of tol- 
erable private fortune in the county of Kilkenny. Unlike the 
common run of young men at that day, he was sober, money- 
making, and even avaricious, though moderately hospitable ; 
his principal virtue consisted in making no exhibition of his 
vices. He was of good figure; and, without having the pres- 



TRIAL OF KNAEESBOEOUGH. 223 

ence of a gentleman, was what is called ratlier a handsome 
young fellow. 

Mr. Knaresborough had been accused of a capital crime by 
a Miss Barton (natural daughter of William Barton, Esq., a 
magistrate of the county of Kilkenny), who stated that she 
had gone away with him for the purpose, and in the strict 
confidence, of being married the same day at Leighlin Bridge. 
Her father was a gentleman of consideration in the county, 
and a warrant was granted against Knaresborough for the 
felony ; but he contrived to get liberated on bail. The grand 
jury, however, on the young woman's testimony, found true 
bills against him fbr the capital offence, and he came to Oarlovf 
to take his trial at the assizes. He immediately called on me 
with a brief — said it was a mere hagaielle and totally un- 
founded — and that his acquittal would be a matter of course. 
I had been retained against him, but introduced him to the 
present Judge Moore, to whom he handed his brief. He made 
so light of the business, that he told me to get up a famous 
speech against him, as no doubt I was instructed to do; that 
indeed I could not say too much, as the whole would appear, 
on her own confession, io be a conspiracy ! nay, so confident 
was he of procuring his acquittal, that he asked Mr. Moore 
and myself to dine with him on our road to Kilkenny, which 
we promised. 

On reading my brief, I found that, truly, the case was not 
overstrong against him even there, where, in all probability, 
circumstances would be exaggerated ; and that it rested almost 
exclusively on the lady's OAvn evidence : hence, I had little 
doubt that, upon cross-examination, the prisoner would be 
acquitted. 

The trial proceeded : I was then rather young at the bar. 
and determined, for my own sake, to make an interesting and 
affecting speech for my client ,• and having no doubt of Knares- 
borough's acquittal, I certainly overcharged my statement, 
and added some facts solely from invention. My surprise? 
then, may be estimated, when I heard Miss Barton swear posi- 
tively to every syllable of niy emblazonment. I sliould now 
have found myself most painfully circumstanced, but that I 



224 HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

had no doubt slie must be altogether discredited. In fact, she 
was quite shaken by the cross-examination of the prisoner's 
counsel. He smiled at her and at us ; and said, " The woman's 
credit was so clearly overthrown, that there could be no doubt 
of his client's innocence of the charge of violence ; and he 
would not trouble the court orjury by any protracted defence 
on so clear a subject." 

I considered all was over, and left the court as the jury 
retired. In about an hour, however, I received an account 
that Knaresborough had been found guilty, and sent back to 
jail under sentence of death ! I was thunderstruck, and with- 
out delay wrote to the chief secretary in Dublin, begging him 
instantly to represent to the lord-lieutenant the real facts : 
execution was in consequence respited. So soon as I could 
return to town, I waited on Major Hobart and the lord-lieuten- 
ant, stated precisely the particulars I have here given, and 
my satisfaction (even from my own brief) that the girl was 
perjured. They referred me to Lord-Chancellor Clare, whose 
answer I wrote down and never shall 'forget : " That may be 
all very true, Barrington ; but he is a rascal, and if he does 
not deserve to be hanged for this, he does for a former afPair, 
right well !" I told him it was quite necessary for me to pub- 
lish the whole concern, in my own justification. He then took 
from his bureau a small parcel of papers, and requested me to 
read them : they proved to be copies of affidavits and evidence 
on a former accusation, from which Knaresborough had escaped 
by lenity, for snapping a pistol at the father of a girl he had 
seduced. 

Lord Clare, however, recommended his sentence to be 
changed to perpetual transportation : but this was to the con- 
vict Avorse than death, and he enclosed to me a petition which 
he had sent to government,' declining the proposed commuta- 
tion, and insisting on being forthwith executed, pursuant to his 
first sentence. Notwithstanding, he was, in fine, actually 
transported. He had contrived to secure, in different ways, 
c£10,000, and took a large sum with him to Botany Bay. I 
had heard no more of him for several years, when I was aston- 
ished one day by being accosted in the streets of Dublin by 



ADVENTUEES OF KKARESBOROUGH. 225 

this identical man, altered only by time and in the color of his 
hair, which had turned quite gray. He was well-dressed, had 
a large cockade in his hat, and did not at all court secresy. 
He told me that government had 'allowed him to come away 
privately ; that he had gone through many entertaining and 
some dismal adventures in Africa, and in America — whence 
he last came ; and he added, that as government were then busy 
raising troops, he had sent in a memorial, proposing to raise 
a regiment for a distant service, solely at his own expense. 
" I have," said he, *' saved sufficient money for this purpose, 
though my brother has, by breach of trust, got possession of a 
great part of my fortune" (which was true). In fact he pes- 
tered the government, who were surprised at his temerity, yet 
unwilling to meddle with him, until at length they had him 
arrested, and required to show his authority from the governor 
of New South Wales for returning from transportation — which 
being unable to do, he was committed to Newgate, to await the 
governor's reply. 

Here his firmness and eccentricity never forsook him ; he 
sent in repeated petitions to the ministry, requesting to be 
hanged, and told me he would give any gentleman 66500 who 
had sufficient interest to get him put to death without delay. 
An unsatisfactory answer arrived from New South Wales : but 
the government could not, under the circumstances, execute 
him for his return — and liberate him Lord Clare wotiJd not: 
his confinement, therefore, was of course indefinitely continued. 
During its course, he purchased a lottery ticket, which turned 
out a prize of ^£2,000 ; and soon after a second brought him 
66500. He lived well, but having no society, was determined 
to provide himself a companion at all events. 

At this juncture the earl of Aldborough oecame his next 

door neighbor. My Lady A , the best wife in the world, 

did not desert her husband ; and, as all woftien of rank enter- 
tain what they call a " young person " to attend on them ; that 
is, speaking generally, a girl handsomer than the mistress, 
neater in her dress, as good in her address — and, in some 
instances, even better in her character : Lady Aldborough 
brought such a one with her to the prison as her dresser and 

10* 



226 HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE. 

tea-maker. But this " young person," considering, as Swift 
says, that " service is no inheritance," and that she had no 
money of her own — and hearing that Fitzpatrick Knares- 
horough possessed great plenty of that necessary article, some 
way or other the metallic tractors brought them acquainted. 
To run away with him, she had only to trip across a lobby and 
staircase ; so she actually broke the sabbath by taking that jour- 
ney on Sunday morning, and left my lord and my lady to finish 
their prayers, and wonder at the attractions of Newgate, which 
could set wandering the virtue of their " young person," whom 
all the temptations, luxuries, and lovers of London and Dublin 
had never been able to lead astray from the path of rectitude. 
My lady was surprised how Anna could possibly connect her- 
self with a convict for such a shocking crime ; but his lordship, 
who knew the world better, said that was the very reason AA^hy 
Anna admired him. However, the whole business in all its 
ramifications terminated pretty fortunately. My lord had his 
full revenge on Lord Clare, and got great credit for his firm- 
ness and gallantry ; Knaresborough was at length turned out 
of Newgate when the government were tired of keeping him 
in ; while the " young person" produced sundry young people 
of her own in prison, and was amply provided for. The only 
set-off to this comedy of '' All's Well that Ends Well" was the 
melancholy fate of poor Miss Barton, who married, was soon 
deserted by her husband, and died in misery ! 



CIIAEACTES OF CUEIiA]^f. 227 



JOHN PHILPOT CUERAi^. 

Sketches of His Character — Personal D^-scription — Lodgings at Carlow — Mr. Curran and 
Mr. Godwin — Sci^nes in the Cannon Cottee-house — Liberality of Mine Host — Miss 
H. in Heroic-s — Prenpitat? R:treat — Lord Chuicarty — Mr. Curi-an's Notion of his own 
Prowess — The DisqunUfications of a Wig — Lord and Lady Caileton — Curran in 18i2 — 
An Artorney turned Cobbler — Curran's Audience of the present King of France — Strictures 
on his Biographers. 

There have been few public men wbose characters have 
afforded a more ample field for comment than that of Mr. Cur- 
ran, and there' are very few who have been more miserably 
handled by their biographers. Young men, who fancied they 
knew him because they were latterly in his society, in fact 
knew him not at all. None but the intimates of his earlier 
and brighter days, and, even among such, those only Avho had 
mixed with him in general as well as professional society, 
could possibly estimate the inconsistent qualities of that cele- 
brated orator. There was such a mingling of greatness and 
littleness, of sublimity and meanness, in his thoughts and lan- 
guage, that cursory observers (confused amidst his versatility ' 
and brilliance) quitted Curran's society without understanding 
anything relating to him, beyond his buoyant spirits and play- 
ful wit. But toward the close of his day, this splendor dissi- 
pated, and dark and gloomy tints appeared too conspicuously, 
poor fellow ! for his posthumous reputation. He felt his de- 
cline pressing quick upon him, and gradually sank into listless 
apathy. 

Even so early as 1798, his talents and popularity seemed to 
me to have commenced a slow but obvious declension. By 
seceding from parliament in the preceding year, he had evacu- 
ated the field of battle, and that commanding eminence 
whence he had so proudly repulsed all his enemies. His 
talents, it is true, for a while survived ; but his habits of life 
became contracted, his energies were paralyzed, his mind 
rambled, he began to prose, and, after his appointment to the 
rolls, the world seemed to be closing fast upon him. 

My intimacy with Curran was long and close. I knew every 



228 JOHN PniLPOT ClIREAN. 

turn of his mind, and eveiy point of Lis capacity. He was 
not fitted to pursue tlie niceties of detail ; but liis imagination 
"was infinite, liis fancy boundless, liis wit indefatigable. There 
w^as scarce an}^ species of talent to which he did not possess 
some pretension. He was gifted by nature with the faculties 
of an advocate and a dramatist ; and the lesser but ingenious ac- 
complishment of personification (without mimicry) was eq^ually 
familiar to him. In the circles of society, where he appeared 
everybody's superior, nobody ever seemed jealous of the supe- 
riority. 

Curran's person was mean and decrepit : very slight, very 
shapeless — with nothing of the gentleman about it; on the 
contrary, displaying spindle limbs, a shambling gait, one hand 
imperfect, and a face yellow, furrowed, rather flat, and 
thoroughly ordinary. Yet his features were the very reverse 
of disagreeable ; there was something so indescribably dra- 
matic in his eye and the play of his eyebrow, that his visage 
seemed the index of his mind, and his humor the slave of his 
will. I never was so happy in the company of any man as in 
Curran's for many years. His very foibles were amusing. 
He had no vein for poetry ; yet fancying himself a bard, he 
contrived to throw oif pretty verses : he certainly was no 
musician ; but conceiving himself to be one, played very pleas- 
ingly ; Nature had denied him a voice ; but he thought he 
could sing ; and in the rich mould of his capabilities, the desire 
here also bred, in some degree, the capacity. 

It is a curious, but a just remark, that every slow, craicling 
reptile is in the highest degree disgusting; while an insect, 
ten times uglier, if it be sprightly and seems bent upon enjoy- 
ment, excites no shuddering. It is so with the human race : 
had Curran been a dull, slothful, inanimate being, his talents 
would not have redeemed his personal defects. But his rapid 
movements — his fire — his sparkling eye — the fine and varied 
intonations of his voice — these conspired to give life and 
energy to every company he mixed with ; and I have known 
ladies who, after an hour's conversation, actually considered 
Curran a heauty, and preferred his society to that of the finest 
fellows present. There is, however, it must be admitted, a 



mS LODGIXGS MR. GODWIN. i229 

good deal in tlie circumstance of a man Tbeing celebrated, as re- 
gards the patronage of women^- '"" 

Curran had a perfect liorror of fleas : nor was this very- 
extraordinary, since those vermin seemed to show him pecnliar 
hostility. If they infested a house, my friend said, that " they 
ahvays flocked to his hedchamher, when they heard he Avas to 
sleep there !" I recollect his being dreadfully annoyed in this 
way at Carlow ; and, on making his complaint in the morning 
to the woman of the house, " By heavens ! madam," cried he, 
" they were in such numbers, and seized upon my carcass with 
so much ferocity, that if they had been unanimous, and all 
]Dulled one way, they must have dragged me out of bed en- 
tirely!" 

I never saw Curran's opinion of himself so much discon- 
certed as by Mr. Godwin, whom he had brought, at the Carlow 
assizes, to dine with Mr. Byrne, a friend of ours, in whose 
cause he and I had been specially employed as counsel. Cur- 
ran, undoubtedly, was not happy in his speech on this occasion 
— but bethought he was. Nevertheless, we succeeded; and 
Curran, in great spirits, was very anxious to receive a public 
compliment from Mr. Godwin, as an eminent literary man, 
teasing him (half jokingly) for his opinion of his speech. 
Godwin fought shy for a considerable time ; at length, Curran 
put the question home to him, and it could no longer be 
shifted. >' 

" Since you ivill have my opinion," said Godwin, folding his 
arm.s, and leaning back in his chair with much sang froid, •' I 
really never did hear anything so bad as your prose — except 
J oviY poetry, my dear Curran." 

Curran and I were in the habit, for several years, of meeting, 
by appointment, in London, during the long vacation, and 
spending a month there together, in the enjoyment of the 
public amusements — but we were neither extravagant nor 
dissipated. Wle had both some propensities in common, and a 
never-failing amusement was derived from drawing-out and 
remarking upon eccentric characters. Curran played on such 
people as he would on an instrument, and produced whatever 
tone he thought proper from them. Thus, he always had a 



230 JOHN PHTLPOT CUEKAN. 

good fiddle in London, wliicli lie occasionally brouglit to our 
dining-lionse for the general entertainment. 

We were in tlie habit of frequenting the Cannon coffeehouse, 
Charing Cross (kept by the uncle of Mr. Hoberts, proprietor of 
of the royal hotel, Calais), where Ave had a box every day at 
the end of the room ; and as, when Curran was free from pro- 
fessional cares, his universal language was that of wit, my 
high spirits never failed to prompt my performance of Jackall 
to the Lion. Two young gentlemen of the Irish bar were fre- 
quently of our party in 1796, and contributed to keep up the 
flow of wit, which, on Curran's part, was well-nigh miraculous. 
Gradually the ear and attention of the company were caught. 
Nobody knew us, and as if carelessly, the guests flocked round 
our box to listen. We perceived them, and increased our 
flights accordingly. Involuntarily, they joined in the laugh, 
and the more so when they saw it gave no offence. Day after 
day the number of our satellites increased — until the room, at 
five o'clock, was thronged to hear "the Irishmen." One or 
two days we went elsewhere ; and on returning to "the Can- 
non," our host begged to speak a word with me at the bar. 
" Sir," said he, " I never had such a set of pleasant gentlemen 
in my house, and I hope you have received no offence." I re- 
plied, "Quite, the contrary!" — "Why, sir," replied he, "as 
you did not come the last few days, the company fell off. Now, 
sir, I hope you and the other gentleman will excuse me if I re- 
mark that you will find an excellent dish of fish, and a roast 
turkey or joint, with any wine you please, hot on your table 
every day at five o'clock, while you stay in town ; and, I must 
beg to add, no charge, gentlemen." 

I reported to Curran, and we agreed to see it out. The 
landlord was as good as his word : the room was filled : we 
coined stories to tell each other, the lookers-on laughed almost 
to convulsions, and for some time we literally feasted. Having 
had our humor out, I desired a bill, which the landlord posi- 
tively refused : however, we computed for ourselves, and sent 
him a d£10 note enclosed in a letter, desiring him to give the 
balance to his waiters. 

I do not think I was ever so amused in my life, as at that 



MISS H. IN HEEOICS — PEECIPITATE RETKEAT. 231 

curious occurrence. One Irish templar alone recognised us, - 
and ^ve made him promise secrecy as to our names : I never 
saw him after. 

An anecilote of a very different nature terminated one of our 
trips to London : I had long known that there existed what 
Curran called " a refined friendship" between him and a Miss 
H., at Spa and elsewhere. She was afterward a friend of 
Holman, the player, and finally married Major * * * an asso- 
ciate of Mr. Hastings. Curran asked me one day, if I was too 
squeamish to go and sup with a former rJiere amie of his who 
had pressed him to come that night, and permitted him to 
bring a companion. He told me who it was and I was quite 
pleased at the idea of knowing a person of whom I had heard 
so much in Ireland. 

We were received with the greatest cordiality and politeness 
by MisB H. : another young lady and two children were in the 
room. Curran was most humorous and enlivening, and every- 
thing forboded a cheerful petit soupe when the lady told Cur- 
ran she wished to speak a word to him in the next room. They 
accordingly withdrew. I was in conversation with the gov- 
erness and children, when I heard a noise like the report of a 
small pistol, and Curran immediately rushed into the apart- 
ment -^Miss H. marching majestically after him. He took no 
notice of me, but snatching up his hat, darted down stairs and 
into the street with the utmost expedition. I realjy conceived 
that she had fired at him ; and feeling dubious as to my own 
probable fate (without a word passing) pounced upon my cha- 
peau, and made after my friend in no small haste. I could not, 
however, open the street door, and therefore gave myself up 
for a murdered man, particularly on the bell ringing violently : 
but the revulsion of my feelings was quite heavenly when I 
heard Miss H.'s voice over the banister calling to her maid to 
" open the street door for the gentleman." I lost no time in 
making good my retreat, but did not see Curran again till next 
morning. 

I had the greatest curiosity to know the cause of his sudden 
flight ; upon which he told me, but without any symptom of 
wit or humor, that she was the most violent-tempered woman 



232 JOHN rillLPOT CURRAN. 

existing ; that on their going into the houdoir together, she in- 
formed him that she was then considerably distressed for a sum 
of money for two or three months ; and that as she had never 
heen under any pecuniary obligation to him she would now ask 
one — namely, the loan of the sum she wanted, on her own 
note. Curran, Avho was particularly close, dreading the amount, 
anticipated her demand by hoping she did not suppose he could 
be so mean as to require her note for any little advance he 
might have it in his power to make ; and was happy in hand- 
ing her half^Q sum at his command in London ; taking as he 
spoke a 6610 note out of his pocket-book. " By heavens ! Bar- 
rington," said Curran, " her look petrified me : she gazed for a 
moment at the note — tore it to atoms, muttering the word 
' rascal!' and when I was preparing to make an apology, hit 
me plump on the side of the head, with a fist at least as strong 
as any porter's ! I thought my brains were knocked out ! did 
you not hear the crack?" inquired he. "To be sure I did," 
said I. " Did she say anything," continued he, " after I was 
gone away ?" — " She only said," replied I, *' that you were the 
greatest rascal existing" (hereat Curran trembled hugely) " and 
that she would next day find you out wherever you were, and 
expose you all over London as a villain and a seducer !" 

/Curran turned pale as ashes, made some excuse for leaving 
the room, and about dinner-time I found I had carried my joke 
too far; for I received a note stating that he was necessitated 
to -start for Ireland directly on particular business, and would 
be off in the mail. 

I never told him the truth, particularly since the la<ly was 
soon after married, as I have related, and had a noble estab- 
lishment in London, and as I learned that Curran had found 
means to make his peace with the offended fair, at whose table 
he became a frequent guest. 

Mrs. * * * afterward broke her neck by a fall down stairs : 
and some people averred that a flask or two of champagne 
had been playing tricks upon her. She was most agreeable 
in her address and manner (her Amazonian paroxysms always 
excepted). The extraordinary length of her feet (which were 
like a pair of brackets) should have saved her from tumbling 



LORD CLANCARTY. 233 

anywhere ; wlille, if I could judge by report, It was miraculous 
how Carran's pegs preserved him on the perpendicular. 

I remember once remarking to Curran how many men, though 
all willing, and some competent to 'work, were destitute of 
briefs at the Irish bar, yet contrived to make conspicuous 
(though not over-talented) figures in political and diplomatic 
situations. " Why, some," answered he, " thrive by the gift 
of common sense ; others by the influence of their wives, and 
such like causes." 

Lord Clancarty and Mr. Yesey Fitzgerald were two Irish 
barristers in whom I never could perceive the raw material for 
embassadors — yet none ever dropped their "Nisi Prius," with 
better effect. The former, though a friendly, honorable man, 
seemed particularly ill calculated to shine among the immor- 
tal carvers, who, at Vienna, cut up nations like dumplings, and 
served around people and kingdoms to the members of their 
company, with as little ceremony as if they had been dealing 
only with paste and raspberries. 

Lord Clancarty's family were for a long period highly re- 
spected land proprietors in County Gralway, and at the great cat- 
tle fair of Ballinasloe : but never were remarkable for any pro- 
fusion of talent. His lordship's father, usually called Billy 
French, of Ballinasloe, was a nice dapper little man, wore tight 
clean leather breeches, and was very like the late Lord Clan- 
william, of amorous memory. He was extremely popular 
among all classes. 

The present peer was called to the Irish bar. Most men 
are found to have some predominant quality when it is prop- 
erly drawn forth : but, in sending Mr. French to the bar, his 
friends found (after a due noviciate) that they Avere endeavor- 
ing to extract the wrong comm(5dity, and that his law would 
never furnish a sufficient dejpot to recruit his pocket. During 
fkthe rebellion, however, I discovered that he was a most excel- 
lent sergeant of dragoons, in which capacity his lordship was 
my subaltern in the barristers' cavalry; and I have the satis- 
faction of reflecting, that a considerable portion of our rank and 
file Avere, in a very short time after the union, metamorphosed 
into embassadors, secretaries, judges, noblemen, bishops, and 



234: JOHN PIIILPOT CUEEAN. 

ministers ! Wliat a loss must the empire have sustained, if we 
had been all piked by the rebels ! a result not very improba- 
ble, as I am apprehensive we should have proved rather help- 
less fellovrs in a general engagement with twenty or thirty 
thousand of those desperate gentry ! in vdiich case the whole 
kingdom of Ireland v/ould have been left with scarcely suffi- 
cient professors of the art of litigation to keep that science (as 
well as the church and state) in preservation till new lawyers 
could be broke into the harness. 

Ourran took no part in those fierce military associations, and 
he was quite right. He was perfectly unadapted either to 
command or to obey ; and as he must have 'done the one or 
the other, he managed much better by keeping out of the broil 
altogether ; as he himself said to me, " If I were mounted on 
ever so good a charger, it is probable I should not stick ten 
minutes on his back in any kind of battle : and if my sword 
was ever so sharp, I should not be able to cut a rebel's head 
off, unless he promised to ' stand easy'' and in a good position 
for me." 

Ourran had ordered a new bar wig, and not liking the cut 
of it, he jestingly said to the peruke-maker, '• Mr. Gahan, this 
wig will not answer me at all." 

" How so, sir j" said Gahan : " it seems to fit." . 

" Ay," replied Curran, *' but it is the very worst spealiing 
wig I ever had. I can scarce utter one word of common law 
in it ; and as for equity, it is totally out of the question." 

*' Well, sir," said Mr. Gahan, the wig-maker, with a serious 
face, " I hope it may be no loss to me. I dare say it will an- 
swer Counsellor Trench." 

But Counsellor Treneh would not take the wig. He said 
he could not liear a word in it. At length, it was sent by Gahan 
to Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, who, having at that time no pressing 
occasion for either a speaking or hearing wig (in a professional 
way), and the wig fitting his head, he purchased it from Mr. 
Gahan, who sold it a bargain, on account of its bad character ; 
though Curran afterward said, " he admitted that the wig had 
been grossly calumniated ; for the very same head which Mr. 
Vesey Fitzgerald then put it on, was afterward stationed at 



LOED AND LADY CARLETON. 235 

the front of the Irisli exchequer, where every one of the king's, 
debtors and farmers were obliged to pay the wig-wearer some 
very handsome and substantial compliment ! Mr. Fitzgerald 
not being necessitated either to hear or speak one word upon 
the occasion." 

Chief-Justice Carleton was a very lugubrious personage. 
He never ceased complaining of his bad state of health (or 
rather of his hypochondriasm), and frequently introduced Lady 
Carleton into his '' Book of Lamentations :" thence it was re- 
marked by Curran to be very extraordinary, that the chief- 
justice should appear as plaintiff (plaintive) in every cause 
that happened to come before him. 

One Nisi-Prius day, Lord Carleton came into court, looking 
unusually gloomy. He apologized to the bar for being neces- 
sitated to adjourn the court and dismiss the jury for that day, 
" though," proceeded his lordship, " I am aware that an impor- 
tant issue stands for trial ; but, the fact is, I have met with a 
domestic misfortune, which has altogether deranged my nerves ! 
Poor Lady Carleton (in a low tone to the bar) has most unfor- 
tunately miscarried, and " 

"Oh, then, my lord!" exclaimed Curran, "there was no 
necessity for your lordship to make any apology, since it now 
appears that your lordship has no issue to try." 

The chief-justice faintly smiled, and thanked the bar for 
their consideration. 

In 1812, Curran dined at my house in Brook street, London. 
He was very dejected ; I did my utmost to rouse him — in vain. 
He leaned his face on his hand, and was long silent. He 
looked yellow, wrinkled, and livid; the dramatic fire had left 
his eye, the spirit of his Avit had fled, his person was shrunken, 
and his whole demeanor miserable and distressing. 

After a long pause, a dubious tear standing in his eye, he on 
a sudden exclaimed, with a sort of desperate composure, " Bar- 
rington, I am perishing ! day by day I'm perishing ! I feel 
it : you knew me when I lived — and you witness my annihila- 
tion." He was again silent. 

I felt deeply for him. I saw that he spoke truth : reason- 
ing would only have increased the malady, and I therefore 



236 JOHN PHILPOT CTIEEAN. 

tried anotlaer course — hagatelle. I jested with him, and re 
minded him of old anecdotes. He listened, gradually his at- 
tention was caught, and at length excited a smile ; a laugh 
soon followed, a few glasses of wine brought him to his natural 
temperament, and Curran was himself for a great part of the 
evening. I saw, however, that he would soon relapse, and so 
it turned out ; he began to talk to me about his family, and 
that very wildly. He had conceived some strange prejudices 
on this head, which I disputed with him, until I wearied of the 
subject. 

We supped together, and he sat cheerful enough until I 
turned him into a coach, at one o'clock in the morning. I 
never saw him after, in London. 

Mr. Curran had a younger brother, who was -an attorney — 
very like him, but taller and better looking. This man had a 
good deal of his brother's humor, a little wit, and much satire ; 
but his slang was infinite, and his conduct very dissolute. He 
was, in fact, what may be termed the best blackguard of his 
profession (and that was saying a great deal for him). My 
friend had justly excluded him from his house, but occasionally 
relieved his finances, until these calls became so importunate, 
that at length further compliance was refused. 

" Sir," said the attorney to me, one day, " if you will speak 
to my brother, I am sure he'll give me something handsome 
before the week is out!" I assured him he was mistaken, 
whereupon he burst into a loud laugh ! 

There was a small space of dead wall, at that time, directly 
facing Curran's house, in Ely place, against which the attor- 
ney procured a written permission to build a little wooden box. 
He accordingly got a carpenter (one of his comrades) to erect 
a cobbler's stall there for him ; and having assumed the dress 
of a Jobson, he wrote over his stall : " Curran, cobbler : Shoes 
toe-pieced, soled, or heeled, on the shortest notice. — When the 
stall is shut, inquire over the way." 

Curran, on returning from court, perceived this worthy hard 
at work, with a parcel of chairmen lounging round him. The 
attorney just nodded to his brother — cried, "How do you do, 
Jack?" — and went on with his employment. 



A^ ATTORNEY TURNED COBBLER. 237 

Ourran immediately despatched a servant for the spend- 
thrift, to whom having given some money, the showboard was 
taken down, the stall removed, and the attorney vowed that 
he would never set up again as a cobBler. 

I never knew Curran express more unpleasant feelings than 
at a circumstance which really was too trivial to excite any 
such. But this was his humor : he generally thought more of 
trifles than of matters of importance, and worked himself up 
into most painful sensations upon subjects which should only 
have excited his laughter. 

At the commencement of the peace he came to Paris, deter- 
mined to get into French society, and thus be enabled to form 
a better idea of their habits and manners — a species of knowl- 
edge for which he quite languished. His parasites had told 
him that his fame had already preceded him even to the closet 
of Louis le Desire. He accordingly procured letters of intro- 
duction from persons of high rank in England, who had fool- 
ishly lavished favors and fortunes on the Bourbons and their 
gang of emigrants, in general the most ungrateful (as time has 
demonstrated) of the human species, although it was then uni- 
versally believed that they could not quite forget the series 
of kindnesses which had preserved them from starvation or 
massacre. 

Among other letters, he had the honor of bearing one, couched 
in strong terms, from his royal highness the duke of Sussex to 
the Count d'Artois, now king of France, reinstated on the throne 
of his forefathers by the blood, the treasure, and the folly, of 
England. 

" Now I am in the right line," said Curran, " introduced by 
a branch of one royal family to that of another : now I shall 
have full opportunity of forming my own opinion as to the sen- 
timents of the old and new nobility of France, whereon I have 
been eternally though rather blindly arguing." 

I was rather skeptical, and said : " I am disposed to think 
that you will argue more than ever when you get home again. 
If you want sentiment, I fancy Monsieur has very little of Sterne 
in his composition." 

" Egad, I believe there is two of you !" retorted Ourran ; and 



238 JOHN PHILPOT CUERAN. 

away lie went to the Tuileries, to enter his name and see Mon- 
sieur. Having left his card and letters of introduction (as 
desired), he waited ten days for an audience : Monsieur was 
occupied. A second entry was now made by Ourran at the 
palace ; and after ten days more, a third : but Monsieur was 
still busy. A fresh entry and card of P. P. C. had no better 
success. In my life I never saw Curran so chagrined. He 
had devised excuses for the arrogant prince two or three times, 
but this last instance of neglect quite overcame him, and in a 
few days he determined to return to Ireland without seeing the 
Count d'Artois or ascertaining the sentiments of the French 

nobility. He told his story to Mr. L , a mutual friend of 

ours in Paris, who said it must be some omission of the Swiss 
porter. 

" Certainly," said Curran, catching at this straw, '■'■ it must, 
no doubt!" and his opinion was speedily realized by the re- 
ceipt of a note from Monsieur's aid-de-camp, stating that his 
royal highness would be glad to receive Mr. Curran at eight 
o'clock the fqllowing morning. 

About nine o'clock he returned to the hotel, and all I could 

get from him in his A\Tath was, " D n !" In fact, he looked 

absolutely miserable. " To think," said he at length, " of this 
fellow! He "told me he always dined with his brother, and 

kept no establishment of his own; then bowed me out, by , 

as if I was an importunate dancing-master !" . 

" Wait till tlie next revolution, Curran," said I, "and then 
we'll be even with him !" 

At this moment Mr. L came in, and with a most cheer- 
ful countenance said, ''Well, Curran, I carried your point !" 

" What point ?" asked Curran. 

" I knew it would take," pursued L , smirking ; " I told 

Monsieur's aid-de-camp that you felt quite hurt and miserable 
on account of Monsieur's having taken no notice of your letters 
or yourself, though you had paid him four visits ; and that — " 

" What do you say 1" shouted Curran. 

Upon L repeating his words with infinite glee, our dis- 
appointed friend burst out into a regular frenzy, slapped his 
face repeatedly, and walked about, exclaiming ; " I'm dis- 



STEIOTURES ON HIS BIOGRAPHERS. 239 

graced ! — I'm humbled in the ejes of that felloAv ! — I'm mis- 
eraUe /" 

I apprehend he had experienced but little more civility from 
any of the restored gentry of the French emigrants, to several 
of whom he brought letters, and I am sure had he received any 
invitation from them I must have heard of it. I fancv that a 
glass of eau sucre was the very extent of the practical hospi- 
tality he experienced from Mesdeurs les emigres, who, if I 
might judge by their jaws and cravats, of the quantity and 
quality of their food, and of their credit with washerwomen, 
were by no means in as flourishing a state as when they lived 
on our benevolence. 

There is much of the life of this celebrated man* omitted by 
those who have attempted to write it. Even his son could 
have known but little of him, as he was not born at the time 
his father's glories had attained their zenith. Before he be- 
came the biographer of his celebrated parent, Mr. Curran would 
have done well to inquire who had been that parent's decided 
friends, and who his invidious enemies ; who supported him 
when his fame was tottering, and who assailed him when he 
was incapable of resistance : if he had used this laudable dis- 
cretion, he would probably have learned how to eulogize and 
how to censure with more justice and discrimination. 

No gentleman of our day knew Mr. Curran more intimately 
than myself, although our natural propensities were in many 
points quite uncongenial. His vanity too frequently misled 
his judgment, and he thought himself sun'ounded by a crowd 
of friends, when he was encompassed by a set of vulgar flatter- 
ers ; he looked quite carelessly at the distinctions of society, 
'and in consequence ours was not generally of the same class, 
and our intercourse more frequently at my house than at his. 
But he could adapt himself to all ranks, and was equally at 
home at Merrion square or at the Priory. 

The celebrity of Curran's life, and the obscurity of his death 
—the height of his eminence, and the depth of his depres- 
sion — the extent of his talents, and the humiliation of, his im- 

* Curran died, I believe, at Brompton, and was buried in Paddington 
churchyard ; but I am ignoi-ant whether or not a stone marks the spot. 



240 TPIE LAW OF LIBEL. 

becility — exhibited the greatest and most singular contrasts 
I ever knew among the host of public characters with whom I 
so long associated. 

At the bar I never saw an orator so capable of producing 
those irresistible transitions of effect which form the true crite- 
rion of forensic eloquence. But latterly, no man became more 
capable, in private society, of exciting drowsiness by prosing, 
or disgust by grossness : such are the inconsistent materials of 
humanity.* 

I should not allude here to a painful subject as respects the 
late Mr. Ourran, had it not been so commonly spoken of, and 
so prominent an agent in his ulterior misfortunes : I mean that 
unlucky suit of his against the E-ev. Mr. Sandes. I endeav- 
ored as much as possible to dissuade him from commencing 
that action, having reason to feel convinced that it must ter- 
minate in his discomfiture ; but he was obdurate, and had bit- 
ter cause to lament his obduracy. I did my utmost also to 
dissuade him from his unfortunate difference with Mr. Ponson- 
by. I told him (as I firmly believed) that he was ivrong, or at 
all events imprudent^ and that his reputation could bear no 
more trifling with : but he did not credit me, and that blow 
felled him to the earth ! 



THE LAW OF LIBEL: 

Observations oh the Law of Libel, particularly in Ireland — "Hoy's Mercury" — Messrs. Van 
Trump and Epaphroditus Dodridge — Former Leniency regarding Cases of Libel con- 
trasted with recent Severity — Lord Clonmell and the Irish Bar — Mr. Magee, of the " Dub- 
lin Evening Post" — Festivities on " Fiat Hill" — Theophilus Swift and his two Sons — His 
Duel with the Duke of Richmond — The " Monster" — Swift libels the Fellows of Dublin 
University — His Curious Trial — Contrast between the English and Iiish Bars — Mr. James 
Fitzgerald — Swift is found guilty, and sentenced to Newgate — Dr. Burrows, one of tho 
Fellows, afterward libels Mr. Swift, and is ponvicted — Both confined in the same Apart- 
naent at Newgate. 

In the* early part of my life, the Irish press, though supposed 
to be under due restraint, was in fact quite uncontrolled. From 

* It is very singular that one of the raoso accomplished men, the most 
eloquent barristers, and best lawyers, I ever knew (a cousin-german of Lord 
Donoughmore), fell latterly, though at an earhr age, into a state of total im- 
becility — became utterly regardless of himself, of society, and of the world 
— and lived long enough to render his death a mercy ! 



FKEEDOM OF THE PRESS. 241 

the time of Dean Swift, and Draper's Letters, its freedom has 
increased at intervals, not only as to pnhlic, but private sub- 
jects. This was attributable to several curious causes, which 
combined to render the law of libel, although stronger in the- 
ory, vastly feebler in practice, than at the present day ; and 
whoever takes the trouble of looking into the Irish newspapers 
about the commencement of the American E-evolution, and in 
1782, will find therein some of the boldest writing and ablest 
lihels in the English language. "Junius" was the pivot on 
which the liberty of the press at one moment vibrated : liberty 
was triumphant; but if that precedent were to prevail to the 
same extent, I am not sure it did not achieve too much. 

The law of libel in England, however railed at, appears to 
me upon the freest footing that private or public security can 
possibly admit. The press is not encumbered by any jprevious 
restraints; Any man may write, print, and publish, whatever 
he pleases; and none but his own peers and equals, in two 
distinct capacities, can declare his culpability, or enable the 
law to punish him as a criminal for a breach of it. I can not 
conceive what greater liberty or protection the press can re- 
quire, or ought to enjoy. If a m.an voluntarily commits an 
offence against the law of libel with his eyes open, it is only 
fair that he should abide by the statute that punishes him for 
doing so. Despotic governments employ a previous censorship, 
in order to cloak their crimes and establish their tyranny. 
England, on the other hand, appoints independent judges and 
sworn jurors to defend her liberties; and hence is confirmed to 
the press a wholesome latitude of full and fair discussion on 
every public man and measure. 

The law of libel in Ireland was formerly very loose and 
badly understood, and the comets there had no particular pro- 
pensity for multiplying legal difficulties on ticklish subjects. 

The judges were then dependent, a circumstance which 
might have partially accounted for such causes being less fre- 
quent than in later times ; but another reason, more extensively 
operating, was, that in those days men who were libelled gen- 
erally took the law into their own hands, and eased the king's 
bench of great trouble by the substitution of a small-sword for 

11 



242 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

a declaration, or a case of pistols for a jiulgment : and these 
same articles certainly formed a greater check upon the propa- 
gation of libels than the twelve judges and thirty-six jurors 
altogether at the present day, and gave rise to a code of. laws 
very different from those we call municipal. A third consid- 
eration is, that scolding-matches and disputes among soldiers 
were then never made matters of legal inquiry. Military offi- 
cers are now, by statute, held unfit to remain such if they fight 
one another, while formerly they were thought unfit to remain 
in the army if they did not : formerly they were bound to fight 
in person ; now they can fight by proxy, and in Ireland may 
lure champions to contest the matter for them every day in 
the week (Sunday excepted), and so decide their quarrels with- 
out the least danger or one drop of bloodshed \ A few able 
lawyers, armed with paper and parchment, will fight for them 
all day long, and, if necessary, all night likewise ; and that, 
probably, for only as much recompense as may be sufiicient to 
provide a handsome entertainment to some of the spectators 
and to their pioneer attorney, who is generally bottle-holder 
on these occasions. 

Another curious anomaly is become obvious. If lawyers 
now refuse to pistol each other, they may be scouted out of 
society, though duelling is against the law ! .but if military 
officers take a shot at each other, they may be dismissed from 
the army, though fighting is the essence and object of their 
profession : so that a civilian, by the new lights of society, 
changes places with the soldier; the soldier is bound to be 
peaceable, and the civilian is forced to be pugnacious — cedent 
arma togcB. It is curious to conjecture what our next meta- 
morphosis may be. 

The first publication which gave rise (so far as I can remem- 
ber) to decided measures for restraining the Irish press, was a 
newspaper called " Hoy's Mercury," published nearly fifty 
years ago by Mr. Peter Hoy, a printer, in Parliament street, 
whom I saw some time since in his shop, on Ormond quay, in 
good health, and who voted for me on the Dublin election of 
1803. 

In this newspaper, Mr. Hoy brought forward two fictitious 



hoy's 3*ffiECURT LORD CLONMELL. 243 

characters — one called Yan Trump, the other Epaphroditus 
Dodridge. These he represented as standing together in one 
of the most public promenades of the Irish capital ; and the 
one, on describing the appearance, features, and dress of each 
passer-by, and asking his companion " who that was V received, 
in reply, a full account of the individual to such a degree of 
accuracy as to leave no doubt respecting identity — particularly 
in a place so contracted as (comparatively speaking) Dublin 
then was. In this way, as much libellous matter was dissemi- 
nated as would now send a publisher to jail for half his life ; 
and the affair was so warmly and generally taken up, that the 
lawyers were set to work, Peter Hoy sadly terrified, and Van 
Trump and Epaphroditus Dodridge banished from that worthy 
person's newspaper. 

But the most remarkable observation is, that as soon as the 
Irish judges were, in 1782, made by statute independent of the 
crown, the law of libel became more strictly construed, and 
the libellers more severely punished. This can only be ac- 
counted for by supposing that, while dependent, the judges felt 
that any particular rigor might be attributed, in certain in- 
stances, less to their justice than to their policy ; and, being 
thus sensitive, especially in regard to crown cases, they were 
chary of pushing the enactments to their full scope. After the 
provision which rendered them independent of the ruling 
powers, this delicacy became needless : but, nevertheless, a 
candid judge will always bear in mind that austerity is no 
necessary attribute of justice, which is always more efficient 
in its operation when tempered with mercy. The unsalutary 
harshness of our penal code has become notorious. True, it is 
liot acted up to ; and this is only another modification of the 
evil, since it tempts almost every culprit to anticipate his own 
escape. On the continent it is different. There, the punish- 
ment which the law provides is certainly inflicted : and the 
consequence is, that in France there is not above one capital 
conviction to any twenty in England. 

The late Lord Clonmell's* heart was nearly broken by 

* His lordship's only son (married to a daughter of the marquis of Salis- 
bury) is now a total absentee, and exhibits another lamentable proof that 



244 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

vexations connected with his public functions. He had been 
in the habit of holding parties to excessive bail in libel cases 
on his own fiat, which method of proceeding was at length 
regularly challenged and brought forward ; and the matter 
being discussed with asperity in parliament, his lordship was, 
to his great mortification, restrained from pursuing such a 
course for the future. 

He had in the court of king's bench used rough language 
toward Mr. Hackett, a gentleman of the bar, the members of 
which profession considered themselves as all assailed in the 
person of a brother barrister. A general meeting was there- 
fore called by the father of the bar ; a severe condemnation of 
his lordship's conduct voted, with only one dissentient voice ; 
and an unprecedented resolution entered into,_ that "until his 
lordship publicly apologized, no barrister would either take a 
brief, appear in the king's bench, or sign any pleadings for 
that court." 

This experiment was actually tried : the judges sat but no 
counsel appeared ; no cause was prepared, the attorneys all 
vanished, and their lordships had the court to themselves. 
There was no alternative; and next day. Lord Glonm ell pub- 
lished a very ample apology, by advertisement in the newspa- 
pers, and, with excellent address, made it appear as if written 
on the evening of the offence, and therefore voluntary.* 

This nobleman had built a beautiful house near Dublin, and 

the eliildren even of men who rose to wealth and title by the favors of the 
Irish people feel disgusted, and renounce for ever that country to which 
they are indebted for their bread and their elevation ! 

* An occurrence somewhat of the same nature took place at no very great 
distance of time, at Maryborough assizes, between Mr. Daley a judge of the 
Irish court of king's bench, and Mr. W. Johnson, now judge of the con)mou 
pleas in that country. 

Mn Daley spoke of committing Mr. Johnson for being rude to him, but, 
unfortunately, he committed himself! A meeting was called, at which I 
was requested to attend, but I declined. I was afterward informed, that my 
refusal had (very unjustly) given offence to both parties. The fact is, that, 
entertaining no very high opinion of the placability of either, I did not 
choose to interfere, and so unluckily replied, that " they might ^^jrA^ dog, 
fight bear — I would give no opinion about the matter." 

One of the few things I ever forgot is, the way in which that affair termi- 
nated : it made little impression on me at the time, and so my memory 
rejected it. 



FESTIYmES ON FIAT HILL. 245 

walled in a deer park, to operate medicinally, hy inducing Mm 
to use more exercise than he otherwise would take. Mr. 
Magee, printer of the Dublin Evening Post (who was what 
they call a little cracked, but very acute), one of the men 
whom his lordship had held to excessive bail, had never for- 
given it, and purchased a lot of ground under my lord's win- 
dows, which he called "Fiat Hill :" there he entertained the 
populace of Dublin, once a week, with various droll exhibitions 
and sports : such, for instance, as asses dressed up with wigs 
and scarlet robes ; dancing-dogs, in gowns, and wigs, as bar- 
risters ; soaped pigs, &c. The assemblies, although produc- 
tive of the greatest annoyance to his lordship, were not suffi- 
ciently riotous to be termed a public nuisance, being solely 
confined to Magee'.? own field, which his lordship, had unfor- 
tunately omitted to purchase when he built his house. 

The earl, however, expected at, length to be clear of his 
tormentors' feats — at least for a while; as Magee was found 
guilty on a charge of libel, and Lord Olonmell would have no 
qualms of conscience in giving justice full scope by keeping 
him under the eye of the marshal, and consequently an absen- 
tee from " Fiat Hill," for a good space of time. 

Magee was brought up for judgment, and pleaded himself, 
in mitigation, that he was ignorant of the publication, not 
having been in Dublin when the libel appeared ; which fact, 
he added. Lord Olonmell Avell know. He had been, indeed, 
entertaining the citizens under the earl's Avindows, and saw 
his lordship peeping out from the side of one of them the whole 
of that day; and the next day he had overtaken his lordship 
riding into town. " And by the same token," continued 
!Magee, " your lordship was riding cJieek hy joivl with your own 
brother Matthias Scott, the tallowchandler,* from Waterford, 
and audibly discussing the price of fat, at the very moment I 
passed you." 

There was no standing this : a general laugh was inevitable ; 

*Lord Clonrnell and Matthias Scott vied with each other which had the 
largest and most hanging pair of cheeks — vulgarly called jowls. His lord- 
ship's chin was a treble one, while Matthias's was but doubled ; but then it 
was broader and hung deeper than his brother's. 



246 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

and liis lordslilp, with that address for which he was so re- 
markable (affecting to commune a moment with his brother 
judges), said, " It was obvious from the poor man's manner, 
that he was not just then in a state to receive definite judg- 
ment ; that the paroxysm should be permitted to subside before 
any sentence could be properly pronounced. For the present, 
therefore, he should only be given into the care of the marshal, 
till it was ascertained how far the state of his intellect should 
regulate the court in pronouncing its judgment." The marshal 
saw the crisis, and hurried away Magee before he had further 
opportunity of incensing the chief justice. 

Theophilus Swift, who, though an Irishman, practised at the 
English bar, gave rise to one of the most curious libel cases 
that ever occurred in Ireland, and which involved a point of 
very great interest and importance. 

Theophilus had two sons. In point of figure, temper, dis- 
position, and propensities, no two brothers in the whole king- 
dom were so dissimilar. Dean Swift, the elder, was tall, thin, 
and gentlemanly, but withal an unqualified reformer and revo- 
lutionist : the second, Edmond, was broad, squat, rough, and 
as fanatical an ultra-royalist as the king's dominions afforded. 
Both were clever men in their way. 

The father was a freethinker in every respect ; fond of his 
sons, although materially different from either, but agreeing 
with the younger in being a professed and extravagant loyalist. 
He was bald-headed, pale, slender, and active, with gray eyes, 
and a considerable squint : an excellent classic scholar, and 
versed likewise in modern literature and belles-lettres. In 
short, Theophilus Swift laid claim to the title of a sincere, 
kind-hearted man; but was, at the same time, the most 
visionary of created beings. He saw everything whimsically 
— many things erroneously — and nothing like another person. 
Eternally in motion — either talking, writing, fighting or what- 
ever occupation came uppermost, he never remained idle one 
second while awake, and I really believe was busily employed 
even in his slumbers. 

His sons, of course, adopted entirely different pursuits ; and, 
though affectionate brothers, agreed in nothing save a love for 



THEOPHILUS swift's DUEL WITH COL. LENKOX. 247 

each otlier, and attachment to their father. They ^ere both 
writers, and good ones ; both speakers, and bad ones. 

Military etiquette was formerly very conspicuous on some 
occasions. I well recollect when a inan bearing the king's 
commission was considered as bound to fight anybody and 
everybody that gave him the invitation. When the duke of 
York was pleased to exchange shots with Colonel Lennox 
(afterward duke of Richmond), it was considered by our friend 
Theophilus as a personal offence to every gentleman in Eng- 
land, civil or military ; and he held that every man who loved 
the reigning family should challenge Colonel Lennox, until 
somebody turned up who was good marksman enough to pene- 
trate the colonel, and thus punish his presumption. 

Following up his speculative notions, Mr. Swift actually 
challenged Colonel Lennox for having the arrogance to fire at 
the king's son. The colonel had never seen or even heard of 
his antagonist ; but learning that he was a barrister and a 
gentleman, he considered that, as a military man, he was 
bound to fight him as long as he thought proper. The result, 
therefore, was a meeting ; and Colonel Lennox shot my friend 
Theophilus clean through the carcass, so that, as Sir Callaghan 
says, "he made his body shine through the sun!" Swift, 
according to all precedents on such occasions, first staggered, 
then fell — was carried home, and given over — made his will, 
and bec|ueathed the duke of York a gold snuff-box ! However, 
he recovered so completely, that when the duke of Richmond 
went to Ireland as lord-lieutenant, I (to my surprise) saw Swift 
at his grace's first levee, most anxious for the introduction. 
His turn came ; and without ceremony he said to the duke, by 
way of a pun, that " the last time he had the honor of waiting 
on his grace, as Colonel Lennox, he received better entertain- 
ment — for that his grace had given him a ball !" 

*' True," said the duke, smiling ; " and now that I am lord- 
lieutenant, the least I can do is to give you a brace of them." 
and in due time, he sent Swift two. special invitations to the 
balls, to make these terms consistent with his excellency's 
compliments. 

Swift, as will hence be inferred, was a romantic personage. 



24:8 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

In fact, lie sliowed tlie most decisive determination not to die 
in obscurity, hj wliatever means liis celebrity might be ac- 
quired. 

A savage, justly termed fJie monster., bad, during Swift's career 
at the bar, practised the most liorrid and mysterious crime we 
bave yet beard of — tliat of stabbing women indiscriminate- 
ly in the street — deliberately and without cause ! He was at 
length taken and ordered for trial : but so odious and detesta- 
ble was his crime, that not a gentleman of the bar would act as 
his advocate. This was enough to induce Swift to accept the 
office. He argued truly that every man must be presumed in- 
nocent till by legal proof he appears to be guilty, and that 
there was no reason why " tiie monster" should be excepted 
from the general rule, or that actual guilt should 'be presumed 
on the charge against him more than any other charge against 
any other person ; that prejudice was a prima facie injustice, 
and that the crime of stabbing a lady with a weapon which 
was only calculated to wound, could not be greate?' than that 
of stabbing her to the heart, and destroying her on the instant ; 
that if the charge had been cutting the lady's throat, he would 
have had his choice of advocates. He spoke and published 
his defence of the monster, who, however, was found guilty, 
and not half punished for his atrocity. 

Theophilus had a competent private fortune ; but as such 
men as he must somehow be always dabbling in what is called 
in Ireland " a bit of a lawsuit," a large percentage of his rents 
never failed to get into the pockets of the attorneys and coun- 
sellors ; and after he had recovered from the duke of Rich- 
mond's perforation, and " the monster" had been incarcerated, 
he determined to change his site, settle in his native country, 
and place his second son in the university of Dublin. 

Suffice it to say that he soon commenced a fracas with all 
the fellows of the university, on account of their " not doing 
justice somehow," as he said, " to the cleverest lad in Ireland !" 
— and, according to his usual habit, he determined at once to 
punish several of the offenders by penmanship, and regenerate 
the great university of Ireland by a powerful, pointed, personal, 
and undisguised libel against its fellows. 



SWIFl^'s DrBLIN UNIVEESITT LIBEL. ' 249 

Theopliilus was not witliout some plausible gTOunds to work 
upon ; but lie never considered that a printed libel did not ad- 
mit of any legal justification. He at once put half a dozen of 
the fellows /^o;•^ de socicte, \)j proclaiming tllem to be perjurers, 
profligates, impostors, &c., &c. ; and printed, published, and 
circulated this his eulogium with all the activity and zeal which 
belonged to his nature, working hard to give it a greater cir- 
culation than almost any libel published in Ireland— -and that 
is saying a great deal ! — ^but the main tenor of his charge was 
a most serious imputation and a very home one. 

By the statutes of the Irish university, strict celibacy is 
required ; and Mr. Swift stated that " the fellows of that uni- 
versity, being also clergymen, had sworn on the Holy Evan- 
gelists that they would strictly obey and keep sacred these 
statutes of the university, in manner, form, letter, and spirit, 
as enjoined by their charter from the virgin queen. But that, 
notwithstanding such their solemn oath, several of these cler- 
gymen, flying in the face of the Holy Evangelists and of 
Queen Elizabeth, and forgetful of morality, religion, common 
decency, and good example, had actually taken to themselves 
each one woman (at least), who went by the name of Miss 
Such-?i-one, but who in fact had, in many instances, undergone, 
or was supposed to have undergone, the ceremony and consum- 
mation of marriage with such and such a perjured fellow and 
parson of Dublin university : and that those w^ho had not so 
married, had done worse ! and that thereby they all had so 
perjured themselves and held out so vicious a precedent to 
youth, that he was obliged to take away his son, for fear of 
contamination," &c., &c. 

It is easy to conceive that this publication, from the pen of 
a very gentlemanly, well-educated barrister, who had defended 
" the monster" at the bar, and the duke of York in Hyde park, 
and showed himself ready and willing to write or fight with 
any man or body of men in Ireland, naturally made no small 
bustle and fuss among a portion of the university men. Those 
who had kept out of the scrape were not reported to be in any 
state of deep mourning on the subject, as their piety wa» the 
more conspicuous ; and it could not hurt the feelings of either 

11* 



250 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

of them to reflect tliat lie might possibly get a step in his pro- 
motion, on account of the defection of those seniors whose 
hearts might be broken, or removal made necessary, by the 
never-ending perseverance of this tremendous barrister, who 
had christened his son Dean Swift, that he might appear a rela- 
tive of that famous churchman, the patron and idol of the Irish 
people. 

The gentlemen of the long robe were, of course, delighted 
with the occurrence : they had not for a long time met with so 
full and fair an opportunity of expending every sentence of 
their wit, eloquence, law, and logic, as in taking part in this 
celebrated controversy. I was greatly rejoiced at finding on 
my table a retainer against the fellows and parsons of Trinity 
college, whom I had always considered as a narrow-minded 
and untalented body of men, getting from one thousand to fif- 
teen hundred pounds a year each for teaching several hundred 
students how to remain ignorant of most of those acquirements 
that a well-educated gentleman ought to be master of. It is 
true the students had a fair chance of becoming good Latin 
scholars, of gaining a little Greek and Hebrew, and of under- 
standing several books of Euclid, with three or four chapters 
of Locke on the Human Understanding, and a sixpenny trea- 
tise on logic, written by a very good divine (one- of the body), 
to prove clearly that sophistry is superior to reason.* This 
being my opinion of them, I felt no qualms of conscience in 
undertaking the defence of Theophilus Swift, Esq., though 
most undoubtedly a libeller. It is only necessary to say that 
Lord Olonmell, who had been (I believe) a sizer himself in that 
university, and in truth all the judges (and with good reason), 
felt indignant at Theophilus Swift's so violently assailing and 
disgracing, in the face of the empire, the only university in 
Ireland — thus attacking the clergy, though he defended a 
" monster." 

* ISTotlung can so completely stamp the character of the university of 
Dublin as their suppression of l>e only school of eloquence in Ireland — 
"The Historical Society" — a school from which arose some of the most dis- 
tinguished, able, and estimable characters that ever appeared in the forum, 
or in the parliament of Ireland, This step was what the blundering Irish 
would call " advancing backward." 



ENERGY OF IRISH BARRISTERS. 251 

An information was in dne form granted against Tlieopliilus, 
and, as lie could neither deny the fact nor plead a justification 
to the libel, of course we had but a bad case of it. But the 
worse the case, the harder an Irish barrister always worked to 
make it appear a good one. I beg here to observe that the 
Irish bar were never so decorous and mild at that time as to 
give up their briefs in desperate cases, as I have seen done in 
England — politely to save (as asserted) public time, and con- 
ciliate their lordships : thus sending their clients out of court, 
because they tlwught they were not defensible. On the con- 
trary, as I have said, the worse the case intrusted to an Irish 
barrister, the more zealously did he labor and fight for his 
client. If he thought it indefensible, why take a fee % But his 
motto was, " While there i& life, there is hope." During: the 
speeches or these resolute advocates, powder and perspn-ation 
mingled in cordial streams adown their writhing features ; 
their mouths, ornamented at each corner with generous froth, 
threw out half a dozen arguments, with tropes and syllogisms 
to match, while English gentlemen would have been cautiously 
pronouncing one monosyllable, and considering most discreetly 
what the next should be. In short, they always stuck to their 
cause to the last gasp! — and it may appear fabulous to a 
steady, regular English expounder of the law, that I have re- 
peatedly seen a cause which the bar, the bench, and the jury, 
seemed to think was irrecoverably lost — after a few hours' 
rubbing and puffing (like the exertions of the Humane Society), 
brought into a state of restored animation; and, after another 
hour or two of cross-examination and perseverance, the judges 
and jury have changed their impressions, and sent home the 
cause quite alive in the pockets of the owner and lawful so- 
licitor. 

In making these observations, I can not but mention a gen- 
tleman then at the very head of the bar, as prime-sergeant of 
Ireland — Mr. James Fitzgerald. I knew him long in great 
practice, and never saw him give up one case while it had a 
single point to rest upon, or he a puff of breath left to defend 
it ; nor did I ever see any barrister succeed, either in the 
whole or partially, in so many cases out of a given number, as 



252 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

Mr. Fitzgerald : and I can venture to say (at least to think) 
that if the Hight Honorable James Fitzgerald had been sent 
to Stockholm in the place of the E-ight Honorable Yesey Fitz- 
gerald, his clier garcon, he would have worked Bernadotte to 
the stumps, merely by treating him just as if he were a motion 
in the court of exchequer. • There was no treaty which the 
government of England might have ordered him to insist upon, 
that he would not have carried, at all events in a degree. 

This is a digression : but having been accustomed, for near 
forty years, to express my regard for that gentleman, and as 
this is probably the last time I shall ever have an opportunity 
of doing so, I was determined, in my " last speech," not to be 
forgetful of my old, and, I really believe, sincere friend. 

And now, reader ! (I have in my preface stated my objec- 
tions to the epithet gentle), we will go back to Theophilus 
Swift, and the college, and the king's bench. The trial at 
length came on, and there were decidedly more parsons present 
than I believe ever appeared in any court of justice of the 
same dimensions. The court set out full gallop against us : 
nevertheless, we worked on — twice twelve judges could not 
have stopped us ! I examined the most learned man of the 
whole university. Dr. Barret — a little, greasy, shabby, croak- 
ing, round-faced, vice-provost : he knew of nothing on earth, 
save books and guineas ; never went out, held but little inter- 
course with men, and none at all with women. I worked at 
him unsuccessfully for more than an hour ; not one decisive 
sentence could I get him to pronounce. At length he grew 
quite tired of me, and I thought to conciliate him by telling 
him that his father had christened me. " Indeed !" exclaimed 
he; "oh! I did not know you were a Christian!" At this 
unexpected repartee, the laugh was so strong against me, that 
I found myself muzzled. My colleagues worked as hard as I ; 
but a seventy-horse power could not have moved the court. 
It was, however, universally admitted that there was but one 
little point against us out of a hundred which the other side 
had urged : that point, too, had only three letters in it, yet it 
upset all our arguments : that talismanic word " law" was more 
powerful than two speeches of five hours each; and, by the 



CONYICTION AND SENTENCE OF SWIFT. 253 

imanimous concurrence of the court and jmy, Theopliilus Swift 
was found guilty of Avriting, publisliing, and undoubtedly i^ro- 
ving, that certain persons, fellows of Dublin university, had 
been living (conjugally) with certain ^persons of an entirely 
different sex : and, in consequence, he w^as sentenced to twelve 
months' imprisonment in his majesty's jail of Newgate, where 
he took up his residence with nearly two hundred and forty 
felons and handy pickpockets. 

My poor visionary friend was in a sad state of depression : 
but Heaven had a banquet in store for him which more than 
counterbalanced all his discomfitures — an incident that I re- 
ally think even the oracle of Delphos never would have thought 
of predicting. 

The Rev. Dr. Burrows was, of all, the most inveterate ene- 
my and active prosecutor of my friend Theophilus. He was 
one of those who, in despite of God and Queen Elizabeth, had 
fallen in love, and indulged his concupiscence by uniting his 
fortunes and person with the object of it — and thereby got 
within the circle of Swift's anti-moralists. This reverend per- 
son determined to make the public hate Theophilus, if possible, 
as much as he did himself ; and forgetting in his zeal the doc- 
trine of libel, and the precedent which he had himself just 
helped to establish, set about to slay the slayer, and write a 
quietus for Theophilus Swift (as he supposed) during the rest 
of his days ! Thus, hugging himself in all the luxury of com- 
plete revenge on a fallen foe. Dr. Burrows produced a libel at 
least as unjustifiable against the prisoner as the prisoner had 
promulgated against him : and having printed, published, and 
circulated the same, his reverence and madam conceived they 
had executed full justice on the enemy of marriage and the 
clergy. But alas ! they reckoned without their host. No 
sooner had I received a copy of this redoubtable pamphlet, 
than I hastened to my friend Theophilus, whom, from a state 
of despondency and unhappiness, I had the pleasure in half 
an hour of seeing at least as happy and more pleased than any 
king in Europe. It is unnecessary to say more than that I 
recommended an immediate prosecution of the Rfev. Dr. Bur- 
rows, for a false, gross, and malicious libel against Theophilus 



254 THE LAW OF LIBEL. 

Swift, Esq. Never was any prosecution better founded, or 
more clearly and effectually supj)orted ; and it took complete 
effect. Tlie reverend prosecutor, now culprit in Lis turn, was 
sentenced to one half of Swift's term of imprisonment, and 
sent off to tlie same jail. 

The learned fellows were astounded ; the university so far 
disgraced ; and Theophilus Swift immediately published both 
trials, with observations, notes, critical, and historical, <fec. 

But, alas ! the mortification of the reverend fellow did uot 
end here. On arriving- at Newgate (as the governor informed 
me) the doctor desired a room as high up as could be had 
that he might not be disturbed while remaining in that man- 
sion. The governor informed him, with great regret, that he 
had not even a pigeon-hole in the jail unoccupied at the time, 
there being two hundred and forty prisoners, chiefly pickpock- 
ets, many of whom were waiting to be transported; and that, 
till these were got rid of, he had no private room that would 
answer his reverence : but there was a very neat and good 
chamber in which were only two beds ; one occupied by a re- 
spectable and polite gentleman ; and if the doctor could man- 
age in this way meanwhile, he might depend on a preference 
the moment there should be a vacancy. Necessity has no 
law ; and the doctor, forced to acquiesce, desired to be shown 
to the chamber. On entering, the gentleman and he exchanged 
bows ; but in a moment both started involuntarily at sight of 
each other. On one was to be seen the suppressed smile of 
mental triumph, and on the other the grin of mortification. 

But Swift (naturally \}ie, pink of politeness) gave no reason 
for an increase of the doctor's chagrin. As the sunbeams put 
out a fire, so did a sense of his folly flash so strong upon the 
doctor's reason, that it extinguished the blaze of his anger ; 
and the governor having left them, in a short time an cclair- 
cissement took place between these two fellow-lodgers in a room 
fourteen feet by twelve ! I afterward learned that they jogged 
on very well together till the expiration of their sentences, and 
I never heard of any libel published by either the doctor or 
Swift afterward. 



STUDY OF HUMA^' CIIARxiCTEE. 255 



PULPIT, BAH, AND P AEI.IAMENTAEY 
ELOQUENCE. 

Biographical and Characteristic Sketch of Dean Kirwari — His Extraordinary Eloquence — 
The Peculiar Powers of Sheridan, Curran, and Grattan Contrasted — Observations on Pul- 
pit, Bar, and Parliamentary Oratory. 

A COMPARATIVE scale of tlie talents of tlie celebrated men 
of my day I have frequently attempted, but never witli suc- 
cess. Though I knew most of them in both private and pub- 
lic, my mind could neVer settle itself to any permanent opinion 
on so complicated a subject. Nevertheless, I <i[^uite agree with 
the maxim of Pope, that " the noblest study of mankind is 
man!" and, consequently, the analysis of human character 
has ever formed one of my greatest amusements, though all 
endeavors to reduce my observation to a system have proved 
decidedly idle. Hence, I have at times grown out of humor 
with the science altogether, and made up my mind that there 
never was a more unprofitable occupation than that of deter- 
mining a public character while the individual still lived. It 
is only after the grave has closed on men, when they can 
change no more, and their mortal acts are for ever terminated, 
that their respective natures become truly developed. This is 
a reflection that must surely force itself upon the mind and 
heart of every observant man. 

The depressions of adversity generally leave the ostensible 
character pretty much as it appeared originally, save that it 
occasionally throws out either abjectness or fortitude, and that 
'talent is sometimes elicited in a greater proportion than the 
sufferer was imagined to possess. But I have always seen 
high prosperity the true and almost infallible touchstone : and 
since I have had leisure to observe the world, its effects upon 
my fellow-countrymen have proved more remarkable than 
upon the people of any other country ; and indeed, in many 
instances, thoroughly ridiculous. 

Eloquence, a first rate quality in my scale, is that for which 
the Irish were eminently celebrated. But the exercise of this 



256 PULPIT, BAR, AND PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE. 

gift depends on so many accidental circumstances, and is withal 
so much regulated by fashion, that its decline is scarcely sur- 
prising. So few possess it, indeed, that it has become the in- 
terest of the only body in Ireland accustomed to extempore 
public speaking (the bar), to undervalue and throw it into the 
back-ground, which they have effectually succeeded in doing. 
A dull fellow can cry " come to the point !" as well as the most 
eloquent d eel aimer. 

Pulpit eloquence is, in my opinion, by far the most important 
of any ; the interest in which it is enlisted is, or ought to be, 
tremendously absorbing; and, in consequence, it is deserving 
of the highest and most persevering cultivation. Yet, what is 
the fact 1 — unless we resort to the temples of sectarianism, and 
run a risk of being annoyed by vulgarity and -fanaticism, we 
have little or no chance of meeting with a preacher who seems 
in earnesL Polemical controversy may be carried on between 
hireling priests without the least tincture of hearty zeal, and 
bishops may think it quite sufficient to leave the social duties 
and cardinal virtues to work their way by force of their own 
intrinsic merits ; yet these are the points whereon a really 
eloquent and zealous minister might rouse the attention of his 
hearers to effectual purpose, and succeed in detaching them 
from methodistical cant and rant, which, at present (merely in 
consequence of apparent heartiness and a semblance of inspira- 
tion), draw away both old and young — both sensible and 
illiterate — from the tribe of cold metaphysical expositors who 
affect to illustrate the Christian tenets in our parochial congre- 
gations. 

Nothing can better exemplify the latter observations than a 
circumstance connected with the island of Guernsey. There 
are seven protestant churches in that island, where the usual 
service is gone through in the usual manner. A parcel of 
methodists, however, professed themselves discontented with 
our litany, established a different form of worship, and set up 
a meeting-house of their own, giving out that they could save 
two souls for every one that a common protestant parson could 
manage. In due time they inveigled a set of fanatic persons 
to form 8L singing-cJioir, which employed itself in chanting from 



SmGING YS. PREACHING — DEAN KLRWAN. 257 

morning till night ; every girl wlio wanted to put lier voice in 
tune being brought by her mother to sing psalms with the 
methodists. This vocal bait, indeed, took admirably, and, in 
a short time, the congregations of the seven churches might 
have been well accommodated in one. On the other hand, 
although the meeting-house was enlarged, its portals even were 
thronged on every occasion, multitudes both inside and out all 
squalling away to the very stretch of their voices. 

The dean and clergy perceiving clearly that singing had 
beaten praying out of the field, made a due representation to 
the bishop of Winchester, and requested the instructions of 
that right reverend dignitary, how to bring back the wayward 
flock to their natural folds and shepherds. The bishop replied, 
that as the desertion appeared to be in consequence of the 
charms of melody, the remedy was plain — namely, to get 
hetter smgers than the methodists, and to sing better tunes ; in 
which case the protestant chiu'ches would, no doubt, soon re- 
cover every one of their parishioners. 

Not having, for many years heard a sermon in Ireland, 1 am 
not aware of the precise state of its pulpit oratory at present. 
But of this I am quite sure : that politics and controversy are 
not the true attributes of Christian worship, and that whenever 
they are made the topic of spiritual discourse, the whole con- 
gregation would be justified in dozing. 

I have heard many parsons atteviiDt eloquence, but very few 
of them, in my idea, succeeded. The present archbishop of 
Dublin worked hard for the prize, and a good number of the 
fellows of Dublin college tried their tongues to little purpose : 
in truth, the preaching of one minister rendered me extremely 
fastidious respecting eloquence from the pulpit. 

This individual was Dean Kirwan (now no more), who pro- 
nounced the most impressive orations I ever heard from the 
members of any profession at any era. It is true, he spoke 
for effect, and therefore directed his flow of eloquence accord- 
ing to its apparent influence. I have listened to this man 
actually with astonishment. He was a gentleman by birth, 
had been educated as a Koman catholic priest, and officiated 
some time in Ireland in that capacity, but afterward conformed 



258 PULPIT, BAE, AND PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE. 

to the protestant churcli, and was received ad eundem. His 
extraordinar J powers soon bronglit him into notice, and he was 
promoted by Lord WestmoreLind to a living; afterward became 
a dean, and would, most probably, have been a bishop ; but he 
had an intractable turn of mind, entirely repugnant to the usual 
means of acquiring high preferment. It was much to be 
lamented, that the independence of principle and action which 
he certainly possessed was not accompanied by any reputation 
for philanthropic qualities. His justly high opinion of himself 
seemed (unjustly) to overwhelm every other consideration. 

Dr. Kirwan's figure, and particularly his countenance, were 
not prepossessing ; there was an air of discontent in his looks, 
and a sharpness in his features, which, in the aggregate, 
amounted to something not distant from repulsion. His manner 
of preaching was of the French school : he was vehement for 
a while, and then, becoming (or affecting to become) exhausted, 
he held his handkerchief to his face : a dead silence ensued — 
he had skill to perceive the precise moment to recommence 
— another blaze of declamation burst upon the congregation, 
and another fit of exhaustion was succeeded by another pause. 
The men began to wonder at his eloquence, the women grew 
nervous at his denunciations. His tact rivalled his talent, and 
at the conclusion of one of his finest sentences, a " celestial 
exhaustion," as I heard a lady call it, not unfrequently ter- 
minated his discourse — in general, abruptly.. If the subject 
was charity, every purse was laid largely under contribution. 
In the church of St. Peter's, where he preached an annual 
charity sermon, the usual collection, which had been under 
66200, was raised by the dean to c£l,100. I knew a gentleman 
myself, who threw both his purse and watch into the plate ! 

Yet the orator}^ of this celebrated preacher would have 
answered in no other profession than his own, and served to 
complete my idea of the true distinction between pulpit, bar, 
and parliamentary eloquence. Kirwan in the pulpit, Ourran 
at the bar, and Sheridan in the senate, were the three most 
effective orators I ever recollect, in their respective departments. 

Kirwan's talents seemed to me to be limited entirely to elo- 
cution. I had much intercourse with him at the house of Mr. 



KIR WAN AND SHEKIDAN. 259 

Helj, of Tooke's conrt. While residing in Dublin, I met him- 
at a variety of places, and my overwrongiit expectations, in 
fact, were a good deal disappointed. His style of address liad 
nothing engaging in it ; nothing either dignified or graceful. 
In his conversation there was neither sameness nor variety ; 
ignorance nor information ; and yet, somehow or other, he 
avoided insipidity. His amour propre was the most prominent 
of his superficial qualities; and a bold, manly independence 
of mind and feeling, the most obvious of his deeper ones. I 
believe he was a good man, if he could not be termed a very 
amiable one ; and learned, although niggardly in communica- 
ting what he knew. 

I have remarked thus at large upon Dean Kirwan, because 
he was by far the most eloquent and effective pulpit orator I 
ever heard, and because I never met any man whose character 
I felt myself more at a loss accurately to pronounce upon. It 
has been said that his sermons were adroitly extracted from 
passages in the celebrated discourses of Saurin, the Huguenot, 
who preached at the Hague (grandfather to the late attorney- 
general of Ireland). It maybe so ; and in that case all I can 
say is, that Kirwan was a most judicious selector, and that I 
doubt if the eloquent writer made a hundredth part of the im- 
pression of his eloquent plagiarists 

I should myself be the plagiarist of a hundred writers, if I 
attempted to descant upon the parliamentary eloquence of 
Sheridan. It only seems necessary to refer to his speech on 
Mr. Hastings' trial ;* at least, that is sufficient to decide me as 
to his immense superiority over all his rivals in splendid decla- 
mation. Many great men have their individual points of 
superiority, and I am sure that Sheridan could not have 

* I had an oppoi'tunity of knowing that Mr. Sheridan was offered £1,000 
for that speech by a bookseller, the day after it was spoken, provided he 
would write it out correctly from the notes taken, before the interest had 
subsided ; and yet, although he certainly had occasion for money at the 
time, and assented to the [jroposal, he did not take the trouble of writing a 
line of it! The publisher was of coiirse displeased, and insisted on his per- 
forming his promise, upon which Sheridan laughingly replied in the vein of 
Falstiiff: "No, Hal! were I at tlie strappado, I would do nothing hy com- 
pulsion /" He did it at length, but too late ! and, as I heard, was (reason- 
ably enough !) not paid. 



260 QUEEN CAROLINE. 

preached, nor KirAvan liave pleaded. Ourran could have done 
both, Grattan neither : but, in language calculated to rouse a 
nation, Grrattan, while young, far exceeded either of them. 

I have often met Sheridan, but never knew him intimately. 
He was my senior and my superior. While he was in high 
repute, I was at laborious duties ; while he was eclipsing ev- 
erybody in fame in one country, I was laboring hard to gain 
any in another. He professed whiggism : I did not under- 
stand it, and I have met very few patriots who appear to have 
acted even on their own definition thereof. 



QUEEN CAROLINE. 

Reception of the late dueen Caroline (then Princess of Wales) at the Drawing-Room held 
after the " Delicate Investigation" — Her Depression and subsi^quent Levity — Queen 
Charlotte and the Princess compared and contrasted — Reflections on the Incidents of 
that Day and Evening — The Thames on a Vauxhall Night. 

I HAVE often mused on the unfortunate history and fate of 
the late Queen Caroline. It is not for me to discuss the merits 
or demerits of her case, or to give any opinion on the conduct 
of the ruling powers in the business. I shall only observe 
that, though it was not possible to foresee such events as sub- 
sequently took place, I had, from the time of my being pre- 
sented to that princess by Lord Stowell, felt an unaccountable 
presentiment that her destiny would not be a happy one. 

Upon the close of the " delicate investigation," a drawing- 
room of the most brilliant description was held at St. James's, 
to witness the princess's reception by her majesty Queen Char- 
lotte. I doubt if a more numerous and sparkling assemblage 
had ever been collected in that ancient palace. Curiosity had 
no small share in drawing it together. 

The sun was that day in one of his most glaring humors ; 
he shone with unusual ardor into the windows of the antique 
ballroom — seeming as if he wished at the same moment to 
gild and melt down that mass of beauty and of diamonds Avhich 



HER RECEPTION BY QUEEN CHARLOTTE. 261 

was exposed to all his fervor. The crowd was immense, the 
heat insufferable ; and the effects resulting' therefrom liberally 
displayed themselves, though in different-tinted streams, upon 
the faces of the natural and aided beauties. 

I was necessitated to attend in my official dress : the friz- 
zled peiTike, loaded with powder and pomatum (covering at 
least half the body of the sufferer), was wedged in among the 
gaudy nobles. The dress of every person who was so fortu- 
nate as to com-e in contact with the wigs, like the cameleon, 
instantly imbibed the color of the thing it came in collision 
with ; and after a short intimacy, many a full-dress black re- 
ceived a large portion of my silvery hue, and many a splendid 
manteau participated in the materials which render powder 
adhesive. 

Of all the distressed beings in that heated assembly, I was 
most amused by Sir Vicary Gibbs, then attorney-general. 
Hard-featured and impatient — his wig awry — -his solids yield- 
ing out all their essence — he appeared as if he had just arisen 
(thoiigh not like Venus) from the sea. Every muscle of his 
angular features seemed busily employed in forming hiero- 
glyphic imprecations ! Though amused, I never pitied any 
person more — ^^ except myself. Wedged far too tight to permit 
even a heaving sigh at my own imprisonment, I could only be 
consoled by a perspective view of the gracious Charlotte, who 
stood stoutly before the throne like the stump of a baronial 
castle to which age gives greater dignity. I had, however, in 
due rotation, the honor of being presented, and of kissing the 
back of her majesty's hand. 

I am, of course, profoundly ignorant of her majesty's man- 
ner in her family, but certainly her public receptions were the 
most gracious in the world : there could not be a more enga- 
ging, kind, and condescending address than that of the queen 
of England. It is surprising how different a queen appears in 
a drawing-room and in a newspaper. 

At length, the number of presentations had diminished the 
pressure, and a general stir in the crowd announced something 
uncommon about to take place. It was the approach of the 
princess of Wales. 



262 QUEEN OAKOLINE. 

Whoever considered the painfully-delicate situation in which 
this lady was then placed, could not help feeling a sympathy 
for her apparent sufferings. Her father, the duke of Bruns- 
wick, had not long before expired of his wounds received at 
Jena ; and after her own late trials, it was, I thought, most 
inauspicious that deep mourning should he her attire on her 
reception — as if announcing at once the ill fate of herself and 
of her parent : her dress was decked with a multiplicity of 
black bugles. She entered the drawing-room leaning on the 
arm of the duke of Cumberland, and seemed to require the 
support. To her, in truth, it must have been a most awful 
moment. The subject of the investigation, the loss of her nat- 
ural protector, and the doubts she must have felt as to the pre- 
cise nature of her reception by the queen, altogether made a 
deep impression on every one present. She tottered to the 
throne : the spectacle grew interesting in the highest degree. 
I was not close ; but a low buzz ran round the room that she 
had been received most kindly, and a few moments sufficed to 
shoAV that this was her own impression. 

After she had passed the ordeal, a circle was- formed for her 
beyond the throne. I wished for an introduction, and Lord 
Stowell (then Sir William Scott) did me that honor. I had 
felt, in common with everybody, for the depression of spirits 
with which the princess had approached her majesty. I, for 
my part, considered her in consequence as full- of sensibility at 
her own situation ; buf, so far as her subsequent manner showed, 
I was totally deceived. The trial was at an end, the queeu 
had been kind, and a paroxysm of spirits seemed to succeed 
and mark strange contrast to the manner of her entry. I 
thought it was too sudden and too decisive : she spoke much, 
and loud, and rather bold. It seemed to me as if all recollec- 
tion of what had passed was rapidly vanishing. So far it 
pleased me, to see returning happiness ; but still the kind of 
thing made no favorable impression on my mind. Her circle 
was crowded ; the presentations numerous ; but, on the Avhole, 
she lost ground in my estimation. 

This incident proved to me the palpable distinction between 
feeling and sensibility — words which people misconstrue and. 



THE THA^IES ON A VATJXHALL NIGHT. 263 

mingle witliout discrimination. I tlien compared the two la- 
dies. The bearing of Queen Cliarlotte certainly was not that 
of a heroine in romance ; but she was the best-bred and most 
graceful lady of her age and figure T ever saw — so kind and 
conciliating, that one could scarcely believe her capable of 
anything but benevolence. She appeared plain, old, and of 
dark complexion ; but she was unaffected, and commanded that 
respect Avhicli, private virtues ever will obtain for public char- 
acter. I liked her vastly better than her daughter-in-law ; in- 
deed, I never could reconcile myself, in any instance, to extra- 
natural complexions. 

I returned from the drawing-room with a hundred new thoughts 
excited by circumstances which had never occurred to me on 
any former occasion, and, by the time I arrived at the Adelphi, 
had grown from a courtier into a philosopher ! Even there, 
however, my lucubrations were doom^ed to interruption. From 
my chamber at the Caledonian, the beauty of the animated 
Thames quite diverted my mind from the suffocating splendor 
under the pressure of which I had passed three hours. The 
broad, unruffled tide, reflecting the rich azure of the firmament, 
awakened in my mind ideas of sublimity which would have 
raised it toward heaven, had not dinner and a new train of 
observation unfortunately recalled me to worldly considerations, 
which I fancied I had for one evening completely set aside. 
Another scene of equal brilliance in its own way soon riveted 
my attention. It was a Vauxhall evening — and thousands of 
painted and gilded skiffs darted along under my windows, 
crowded with flashy girls and tawdry cits, all enveloped in 
their holyday glories, and appearing to vie in gaudiness with 
the scullers of which they were the cargo. Here elegance and 
vulgarity, rank and meanness, vice and beauty, mingling and 
moving over the waters, led me to the mortifying reflection 
that this apparently gay and happy company probably com- 
prised a portion of the most miserable and base materials of 
the British population. 

I soon became fatigued by the brilliant sameness of the 
scene ; and a sort of spurious philosophy again led me back to 
the queen's drawing-room, and set me reflecting on numerous 



264: LORD YELVEETON AND THE BAR. 

subjects, in wliicli I had not the remotest interest ! but as soli- 
tary reasoning is one of the very greatest incentives to drow- 
siness, that sensation soon overcame all others : the sensorial 
powers gradually yielded to its influence ; and, in a short time, 
the queen and the princess of Wales — the drawing-room and 
the gilded boats — the happy-looking girls and assiduous gal- 
lants, all huddled together in most irreverent confusion, sheered 
off (as a seaman would say), and left a sound and refreshing 
slumber in place of all that was great and gay — dazzling and 
splendid — in the first metropolis of the European hemisphere. 



LORI) YELVEETON AND THE BAR. 

Characteristic and Personal Sketches of Three Irish Barristers : Mr. William Fletcher (af- 
terward Chief-Justice of the Court of Common Pleas), Mr. James E?an (afterward Judge 
of Dublin County), and Mr. Bartholomew Hoare, Kinaf's Counsel — Lard Yelverton's Din- 
ner-Party — The Author's Parody— Mr. Egan right by Mistake. 

Mr. William Fletcher, since chief-justice of the common 
pleas ; Mr. James Egan, afterward judge of Kilmainham ; and 
Mr. Bartholomew Hoare, one of the king's counsel, were cer- 
tainly the three most intractable men of their profession, though 
of characters very dissimilar. 

Mr. Fletcher, a clever man and excellent lawyer, had a 
surly temper combined with a kind heart and an honest, free- 
spirited principle, which never forsook him either in private 
life or as a public functionary. He was hard featured, and 
although morose in court, disposed to jocularity in society; his 
appetite seemed to decline toward gourinandise, and, in fact, 
toward voluptuousness, generally speaking. As a judge, he 
was upright, uninfluenced, and humane. 

Mr. Egan, a huge, coarse-looking, red faced, boisterous fel- 
low, to as tender a heart as ever was enclosed in so rough an 
outside, added a number of other good qualities which it would 
be too much to expect should exist without some alloy. His 
manners were naturally gross rather than refined ; and it was 
very curious to see him in full dress, endeavor to affect good 



LORD TELYEETOiq^'s DINNER PARTY. 265 

breeding. He liad immense business at tbe bar at tbe time of 
Lord Yelverton presided in tlie court of excheq^uer ; and lie ' 
executed that business zealously and successfully, witli, bow- 
ever, as occasion served, a sprinkling of what we term balder- 
dasb. In fact, be botb gave and received bits and cuts witb 
infinite spirit, and in more ways tban one ; for be bad fought a 
good number of duels (one witb swords), and bad tbe good for- 
tune to escape witb an unpierced skin. Natural deatb was bis 
final enemy, and swept bim off Jong before nature ougbt to 
have bad any band in it. He died judge of Dublin county. 

Bartholomew Hoare was tbe inferior of botb. He wrote 
well, but spoke most disagreeably ; bis harangues being sen- 
tentious and diffuse, though not destitute of point. He was ill- 
tempered, arrogant, and rude, with a harsh expression of coun- 
tenance ; but withal, what was termed " an able man." In 
point t)f intellect, indeed, he perhaps exceeded Egan, but in 
heart I must rank bim inferior. Egan was popular with the 
most talented men of his profession : Hoare could never at- 
tain popularity in any shape. 

These are merely fugitive sketches of three men of the Irish 
bar who (I knew not why) were generally named together, but 
whose respective careers terminated very differently ; Barthol- 
omew Hoare died in great distress. 

The chief-baron, Lord Yelverton, got one day after dinner, 
at his house at Fairview, into an argument with Egan, which 
in truth, he always courted, to enhance the merriment of the 
company. Hoare never beard an argument in bis life between 
any two persons, or upon any subject, wherein he did not long 
to obtrude ; and Fletcher, if be thought he bad conceived a 
good bit, was never easy till be was delivered of it. On tbe 
evening in question, tbe trio had united in contesting witb 
their host all manner of subjects, which he bad himself design- 
edly started, to excite them. He was in high glee, and played 
them off in a style of the most superior wit and cleverness, as- 
sisted by much classic quotation : by successive assaults be 
upset the three, who were as less than one in the hands of 
Yelverton, when he chose to exert himself. Tbe evening cer- 
tainly turned out among the pleasantest I ever passed in society. 

12 



266 LORD YELYERTON AND THE BAE. 

Lord Yelverton's wit and humor liad a sort of weight and 
solidity in it, which emitted a fervid as well as a blazing light. 
I opened not my lips ; had I mingled in their disputation, I. 
should not only have got my full portion of the tattooing (as 
they termed it), but also have lost, in becoming an actor, the 
gratification of witnessing the scene. At length Lord Yelver- 
ton wrote under the table with a pencil the following words, 
and sent the scrap by a servant to me : *' Barrington, these fel- 
lows will never stop ! pray write something about them, and 
send it to me." I left the room, and having. written the fol- 
lowing parody in a hand to resemble printing, sent it in to his 
lordship sealed as a letter : — 

"Three pleaders, in one vulgar era born, 
Mount Meiic, Cork, and Blarney, did adorn: 
In solemn mrliness tlie first surpassed, 
The next in balderdash — in both the last: 
The force of nature could no farther go ; 
To make a third, she joined the former two!" 

Lord Yelverton, not expecting the lampoon to come in form 
of a letter, was greatly diverted ; it was read over and over 
again, amidst roars of laughter. Everybody entertained his 
own conjecture respecting the writer, and each barrister ap- 
propriated to himself one of the three characteristics. I was 
not at all suspected that night, since I had in' no wise inter- 
fered, and my brief absence had not been noticed : but next 
day in court, it somehow came out. Nobody but Hoare was 
vexed, and him I silenced by threatening that I would write 
another epigram on him solus if he provoked me. 

Egan, however, professed annoyance at me for some cause 
or other in the course of that day. He was never remarkable 
for the correctness of his English. In speaking to some motion 
that was pending, he used the word obdurate frequently. I 
happened to laugh ; Egan turned round, and then addressing 
himself to the chief baron, " I suppose, my lord," said he, iron- 
ically, " the gentleman laughs at my happening to pronounce 
the word obdurate wrong." 

" No, my lord," replied I, " I only laughed because he hiap- 
pened to pronounce it right. '^ 

I never heard him utter the word obdurate afterward. 



AN ECCENTEIC IRISH BAEKISTEE. 267 



MR. NOEOOT'S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE. 

The Hollowiiess of Interested Popularity Illustrated in the Example of Mr. Norcot — The 
Dilemma of a Gamester — The Inst Resource — The "Faithful" Valet — Mr. Norcot turns 
Mohammedan — His Equivocal Destiny, 

Mr. Norcot was an eccentric Irisli barrister, tlie uncertainty 
of whose fate has given rise to avast number of surmises : the 
last authentic account described him as a Turk selling rhubarb 
and opium in the streets of Smyrna ! When the duke of Rich- 
mond was lord-lieutenant of Ireland he was a great favorite 
at the castle-revels. He could drink as stoutly as the duke 
himself, touch the piano as well as a lady, or gamble as deeply 
as any of the gentlemen : he could jest even better than Sir 
Charles Vernon, and drove, in his entertainments, all other 
bachelors out of the field. Hence his reception was so flatter- 
ing, that he discarded all reflection, and at length found his 
purse empty, his resources dry, his profession unproductive, his 

i-J;, estate melted down, and his reputation not improved. The 
noble duke gave him no place — but at his dinner-table, while 
smiles and lemonade were the favors of the duchess : the 
courtiers turned their faces toward him while he was rich, and 

^"^ / their backs when he had grown poor : his best puns began to 
( pass without notice, his mimicry excited no laughter, and his 
most high-flown compliments scarcely received a courtesy. 
'' A fat, hearty, convivial fellow does not perceive what is 
termed the half-cut near so soon as your lank, sensitive, thor- 
ough-paced goer : and Norcot was not completely undeceived 
as to his own declining influence until one evening, having 
lost much more money than he had to pay, he began to con- 
sider how to make up the deficiency. He had very little cash 
left anywhere, and was not versed in the borrowing system : 
so he thought he would wait a few days to see what Providence 
would be pleased to do for him; and as he had never thought 
it worth his while to rely upon her before, he did not know 
exactly in what way to court her assistance. Irish gentlemen 
so circumstanced are very apt to suppose that they may find 



268 ME. nokcot's attempt at suicide. 

Providence, or in other words good luck, at the bottom of two 
or three bottles of wine, and accordingly never omit the appli- 
cation thereunto. Norcot pursued the usual course, and cer- 
tainly made away with that number at least, next night with 
the duke, But alas ! this kind of exorcism was unsuccessful 
in his instance, and he was necessitated to return home, at 
three o'clock in the morning, sobered by the very lassitude of 
excess, and maddened by reflection. On arriving, he threw him- 
self into his arm-chair, his mind became confused, his reason 
wandered : he thought of resources, there was none ! but the 
extent ofz-his poverty and debts being as yet not publicly 
known, he thought of borrowing ; the plan, however, seemed a 
doubtful one ; and besides, he was deterred from trying it by 
his pride. He next thought of prison : this inflamed his brain 
still farther, and drove him upon the fearful alternative of sui- 
cide ! Here a door of retreat seemed open, although whither 
it led he knew not : but he had neither/heart to bear up against 
misfortune, nor religion to assuage it j he had no steady friend 
to advise with, and no liberal one to relieve him. 

He sank for a moment into an enviable state of insensibility. 
His servant Thomas, a broad, faithful Irishman, but who never 
had known the meaning of any kind of feelings (except cor- 
poreal ones), stood by, surprised at the change in his master's 
manner. " Thomas !" exclaimed the desponding Norcot, 
*' Thomas, are my pistols charged ?" 

" Right well, plaze your honor," replied Thomas. 

" The flints, Thomas ?" 

*' I'm sure they'd strike fire enough to burn a barrel of gun- 
powder, if your honor wanted to blow it up !" 

" Bring them hither !" said Norcot. 

Thomas did not approve of this order, and answered, ** Sure 
your honor can't want them till daylight, any how !" But, 
upon Norcot's authoritatively waving his hand, he brought the 
pistols, wondering what his master wanted with them. 

" Thomas," said the desperate man, " you were always 
faithful !" 

** And why should not 1 .?" said Thomas. 

"Well, then, Thomas, I can live no longer !" 



A TIMELY PRECAUTION. 269 

" Thunder and oons, Master ! why not *?" 

" 'Tis enough to say, Thomas," pursued the hapless barrister, 
taking up one of the pistols, " that I am determined to die." 

Thomas never having seen such a catastrophe, was quite 
alarmed, but all his eloquence was in vain : having wept and 
argued to no purpose, he ran toward the window to shout mur- 
der, but it was fast. Norcot (who was an unbeliever), shud- 
dering meanwhile less at the idea of the crime he contem- 
plated than at that of eternal annihilation (which his tenets 
induced him to anticipate), said, " Thomas, take one of these 
pistols and put it to my head : apply the other here, to my 
heart ; fire both together, and put me out of my pain — for die 
I will !" 

Thomas mused and bethought himself, and then answered, 
"I am willing to do the best I can for so good a master, but 
truly I can't shoot, and may be I'd miss your honor ! hadn't I 
better go to some gentleman of your acquaintance that I heard 
you say never missed anybody — and who would do it clev- 
erly ?" 

" None but you," returned the unyielding desperado, " shall 
shoot me, Thomas !" 

" I never shot anybody !" cried the servant : " but," taking 
up the pistols, " your honor says, one at your head : may I 
crave what part of it !" 

" There," said Norcot, pointing to his temple ; " the other 
through my heart !" 

" And which side is your honor's heart to-night ?" inquired 
"the dilatory valet. 

" Here !" replied Norcot : " now cock and fire !" 

Thomas, who had been planning all this time how to get rid 
of the business, now seemed on the sudden to recollect himself. 
"But, master dear!" said he, "when you were going to fight 
a duel with that Captain O'Brien, at the Cove of Cork, your 
honor took out Surgeon Egan with you, saying, that no gentle- 
man should risk his life without a doctor : so, if you plase, I'll 
just step over first and foremost, and fetch Surgeon Macklin 
\iQYQ for fear of accidents /" Without waiting any reply, he in- 
stantly stepped out of the room as fast as he could, taking the 



270 MK. noecot's attempt at suicide. 

pistols witli him, and leaving Norcot in astonishment : he 
actually went to the doctor, told him the stoiy, and brought 
him over to reason with his master, who remained in a state of 
perfect distraction. However, the fit somewhat subsided ; and 
the incident being thus placed in a novel and ridiculous point 
of view had the most extraordinary effect on Norcot's mind. 
He recovered the use of his reason, and calm reflection suc- 
ceeded the burning frenzy. He could scarcely avoid smiling 
at Thomas : and relating the adventure himself,. pretended it 
was only a trick of his own to terrify his servant. But when 
he was left to himself, he considered what was best to be done, 
and adopted it. He made up all the means he could, and got 
into a place of secrecy, where he awaited the result of the 
" chapter of accidents," and the efforts of his great friends to 
procure him some employment for subsistence : nor was he long 
unprovided for. He was appointed to an office, I think at 
Malta, but where he soon disgraced himself in a manner which 
*for ever excluded him from society. Being now lost past 
all redemption, he fled to the Morea, and. thence to Constan- 
tinople, where he renounced the cross and became a Mussul- 
man. But even there he was not fortunate : he has for some 
time been lost sight of, and exhibits a most edifying lesson to 
the dissipated and unbelieving. After commencing the world 
with as plausible prospects of success and respectability as 
most men of his day, Norcot, if dead, has died a disgraced and 
blasphemous renegado ; thus confirming an observation of mine, ;, 
throughout life, that a free thinker is ever disposed to be also ai 
free actor, and is restrained from the gratification of all his 
vices only by those laws which provide a punishment for their/ 
commission. —^ 



INTALLIBILITY OF JUDGES. 271 



ANECDOTES OF IRI^H JUDGES. 

Baron Monckton — Judge Boyd — Judge Henn — Legal Blimder of a Judge, and Cuvran's Bon- 
mot thereoTi — Baron Power — His Suicid ^ — Crosby Morgal's Spirit of Emulation — Judge 
William Johnson — Cui'ious Auf^cilote with him and the Author — Jud<re Kelly — His Char- 
acter and Bon-inots — Lord Kihvarden — His Charricrer — Murder of Him and his Nephew 
the Rov. Mr. Wolfe — Mr. Emmet Execut^^d — Memoir of that Person — Jud^e Robert John- 
son — Arrested in Ireland, and Tried in London, for a Libel written on Lord Redesdale 
in Ireland and Published by Cobbett — Doubts of the legality of his lordship's Trial — He 
is found Guilty. 

Before and for some time after I was called to tlie tar, the 
bench was in sonle instances very curiously manned as to 
judges. The uniform custom had previously been to send 
over these dignitaries from England ; partly with a view to 
protect the property of absentees, and partly from political 
considerations : and the individuals thus sent, appeared as if 
generally selected because they were good for nothing else. 
In truth, till the judges of Ireland were made independent of 
the crown in 1784, no English barrister who could earn his 
bread at home would accept a precarious office in a strange 
country, and on a paltry salary. Such Irishmen, also, as were 
in those days constituted puisne judges, were of the inferior 
class of practising barristers, on account of the last mentioned 
circumstance. 

A vulgar idea, most ridiculous in its nature, formerly pre- 
vailed in Ireland, of the infallibility of judges. It existed at 
an early period of my observations, and went so far even as to 
conceive that an ignorant barrister, whose opinion nobody 
probably would ask, or, if obtained, would act upon — should 
he, by interest, subserviency, or other fortuitous circumstances, 
be placed on the judicial bench, immediately changed his 
character — all the books in his library pouring their informa- 
tion into his head ! The great seal and the king's patent were 
held to saturate his brain in half an hour with all that wisdom 
and learning which he had in vain been trying to get even a 
peep at during the former portion of his life ; and the mere 
dicta of the metamorphosed barrister were set down, by repor- 
ters, as the infallible (but theretofore inexplicable) law of the 



272 ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

land ; and, as such, handed round to other judges under the 
appellation of precedents, entitled to all possible weight in 
judicial d6cisions. 

The old doctrine of the infallibility of dicta and precedents 
(which presented, in fact, an accumulation of enigmas and con- 
tradictions), was at one time carried to great lengths ; I be- 
lieve partly from a plausible system of making legal decisions 
uniform, whether right or wrong ; and perhaps partly from the 
inability of the adopters to make any better sort of precedent 
themselves. A complaisance so ridiculous has of late been 
much relaxed. 

To show the gradual and great improvement of the Irish 
bench, and the rapid advance in the administration of justice 
in the law courts of that country, I will subjoin a few illustra- 
tive anecdotes- 
Baron Monckton, of the exchequer (an importation from 
England), was said to understand hlack letter and red wine 
better than any who had preceded him in that situation. At 
all events, being often xino deditus, he on those occasions 
•^escribed the segment of a circle in making his way to the 
seat of justice ! This learned baron was longer on the bench 
than any other in my recollection. I have also in later days 
enjoyed the intimacy of a very clever, well-informed man, and 
a sound lawyer, who (like the baron) rather indecorously in- 
dulged in the juice of the grape, and whom Lord Clare had 
made a judge for. some services rendered to himself. The 
newspapers eulogized this gentleman very much for his singu- 
lar tender-heartedness, saying, " So great was the humanity of 
Judge Boyd, that when he was passing sentence of death upon 
any unfortunate criminal, it was observable that his lordship 
seldom failed to have " a drop in his eye !" 

I remember a barrister being raised to the Irish bench, who 
had been previously well-known by the ingenious surname of 
Counsellor Necessity — because " necessitas non legem habet :" 
and certahily to do him no more than justice, he consistently 
merited the cognomen after his elevation as well as before. 

Old Judge Henn (a very excellent private character) was 
dreadfully puzzled on circuit, about 1789, by two pertinacious 



BON-MOT OF CTJEIiAN. 273 

young barristers, arguing a civil bill upon some trifling subject, 
repeatedly haranguing the court, and eacli most positively 
laying down the " law of the case" i^i direct opposition to his 
adversary's statement thereupon. The judge listened with 
great attention until both were tired of stating the law and 
contradicting each other, when they unanimously requested 
his lordship to decide the point. 

"How, gentlemen," said Judge Henn, '■^ can I settle it be- 
tween you ? You, sir, positively say the law is one way, and 
you (turning to the opposite party) as unequivocally affirm that 
it is the other way.~ I wish to God, Billy Harris [to his regis- 
trar, who sat underneath] I knew what the law really was !" 

" My lord," replied Billy Harris, most sententiously, rising 
at the same moment, and casting a despairing glance toward 
the bench ; " if I possessed that knowledge, I protest to God I 
would tell your lordship with a great deal of pleasure !" 

" Then we'll save the point, Billy Harris," exclaimed the 
judge. 

A more modern justice of the Irish king's bench, in giving 
his dictum on a certain will case, absolutely said, " he thought 
it very clear that the testator intended to keep a life-interest 
in the estate to himself.''^ The bar did not laugh outright ; but 
Curran soon rendered that consequence inevitable. " Very 
true, my lord," said he, " very true ! testators generally do 
secure life-interests to themselves. But, in this case I rather 
think your lordship takes the will for the deed^ 

The chief-justices were, however, generally accomplished 
men, and of first-rate talent as lawyers ; and the chancellors, 
with few exceptions, both able and dignified — qualities which 
Lord Lifford was the last to unite in an eminent degree. 

On the subject of judges, I can not omit a few anecdotes of 
a very different description from the foregoing, which occurred 
in my own time. 

Baron Power was considered an excellent lawyer, and was 
altogether one of the most curious characters I have met in the 
profession. He was a morose, fat fellow, affecting to be gen- 
teel : he was very learned, very rich, and very ostentatious. 
Unfortunately for himself. Baron Power held the office of usher 



274 ♦ ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

of the court of chancery, which was principally remunerated 
by fees on moneys lodged in that court. Lord Clare (then 
chancellor) hated and teazed him, because Power was arro- 
gant himself, and never would succumb to the arrogance of 
Fitzgibbon. The chancellor had a certain control ^^ver the 
usher ; at least he had a sort of license for abusing him by inu- 
endo, as an officer of the court, and most unremittingly did. he 
exercise that license. Baron Power had a large private for- 
tune, and always acted in office strictly according to the cus- 
tom of his predecessors ; but was attacked so virulently and 
pertinaciously by Lord Clare, that having no redress, it made 
a deep impression, first on his pride, then on his mind, and at 
length on his intellect. Lord Clare followed up his blow, as 
was common with him. He made incessant attacks on the 
baron, who chose rather to break than bend ; and. who, unable 
longer to stand this persecution, determined on a prank of all 
others the most agreeable to his adversary ! The baron walked 
quietly down, early one fine morning, to the south wall, which 
runs into the sea, about two miles from Dublin. There he very 
deliberately filled his coat-pockets with pebbles ; and having 
accomplished that business, as deliberately w^alked into the 
ocean, which, however, did not retain him long, for his body 
was thrown ashore with great contempt by the tide. His es- 
tates devolved upon his nephews, two of the most respectable 
men of their country ; and the lord-chancellor enjoyed the 
double gratification of destroying a baron, and recommending 
a more submissive officer in his place. 

Had the matter ended here, it might not have been so very 
remarkable ; but the precedent'was too respectable and inviting 
not to be followed by persons who had any particular reasons 
for desiring strangulation — as a judge drowning himself gave 
the thing a sort of dignified, legal eclat I "It so happened that a 
Mr. Morgal, then an attorney, residing in Dublin (of large di- 
mensions, and with shin-bones curved like the segment of a 
rainbow), had, for good and sufficient reasons, long appeared 
rather dissatisfied with himself and other people. But as at- 
torneys were considered much more likely to induce their 
neighbors to cut their throats tliian to execute that office upon 



CKOSBT MOKGAl's SPIRIT OF EMULATION. 275 

tliemselves, nobody ever suspected Morgal of any intention to 
shorten his days in a vohintary manner. 

However, it appeared that the signal success of Baron Power 
had excited in the attorney a great ambition to get rid of his 
sensibilities by a similar exploit. In compliance with such his 
impression, he adopted the very same preliminaries as the 
baron had done ; Avalked off by the very same road, to the 
very same spot ; and, having had the advantage of knowing, 
from the coroner's inquest, that the baron had put pebbles into 
his pockets with good effect, adopted likewise this judicial pre- 
cedent, and committed himself in due form into the hands of 
Father Neptune, who took equal care of him as he had done 
of the baron ; and, after having suffocated him so completely 
as to defy the exertions of the Humane Society, sent his body 
floating ashore, to the full as bloated and buoyant as Baron 
Power's had been. This gentleman was father to a lady of 
rank, still living, and Avhose first husband met a much more 
disagreeable finale, being shot against his will by his brother- 
candidate, Mr. Crosby, at the election of Kerry. She has her- 
self, however, been singularly fortunate throughout life. 

As a sequel to this little anecdote of Crosby Morgal, it is 
worth observing that, though I do not recollect any of the at- 
torneys immediately following his example, four or five of his 
clients very shortly after started from this world of their own 
accord, to try, as people then said, if they could any way over- 
take Crosby, who had left them no conveniences for staying 
long behind him.* 

* The Irish attorneys had, I believe, then pretty much the same reputa- 
tion and popularity enjoyed by their tribe throughout the United Kingdom. 
They have now wisely changed their designation into that of "solicitors." 
I recollect one anecdote, which will, T think, apply pretty well to the major 
part of that celebrated profession. Some years ago, a suitor in the court of 
exchequer complained in person to (he chief baron that' he was quite "ruin- 
ated," and could go on no farther! " Then," said Lord Yelverton, "you had 
better leave the matter to be decided by reference." — -"To be sure I will, 
my lord," said the plaintiff; "I've been now at law thirteen years, and can't 
get on at all! I'm willing, please your lordship, to leave it all either to 
one honefit man or two attorneys, whichever your lordship, pleases." — "You 
had better toss up for that," said Lord Yelvei'ton, laughing. Two attorneys 
were however appointed, and, in less than a year, reported that "they 
could not agree." Both parties then declared they would leave the matter 
to a very honest farmer, a neighbor of theirs. They did so, and, in about a 



276 ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

Mr. William Jolmson (tlie present Judge Jolmson) was the 
only one of my brother-barristers whose smiles were not agree- 
able to me when we went circuits together. I liked his frowns 
extremely, because they were .generally very sincere, extremely 
picturesque, and never niggardly bestowed. But, as my own 
smiles had the trouble of mounting up from my heart, while he 
had an assortment ready prepared to take a short cut to his 
muscles whenever policy required, I found that in this partic- 
ular we were not equally matched. 

When my friend William was angry, I was sure he was in 
earnest, and that it would not be over too soon : I therefore 
considered it as a proper, steady sort of concern. But his par- 
oxysms of good-humor were occasionally so awkward, that 
although they were but transitory, I have frequently begged 
of him to cheer up our society by getting into a little passion ; 
nay, have sometimes taken the liberty of putting him into one 
myself, to make him more agreeable. 

Be it remembered, however, that this was before Mr. William 
Johnson became a judge ; and I can not say what effect an 
inoculation by Lord Norbury's temperament may have had 
upon his constitution. But I have frequently told him that 
either physic or wrangling was indispensably necessary to keep 
his bile from stagnation ; and I hope my old chum has not suf- 
fered himself to sink into any morbid state of mental apathy. 

I always promised to give William Johnson a page or two 
in my " Historic Memoirs of Ireland." Some of his friends 
have suggested that he would be more appropriately intro- 
duced into my " Fragments." I Avill adopt their suggestion 
without abandoning my own purpose, and, with the best wishes 
for his celebrity, bequeath him in both works to posterity, 
which I shall leave to form its own estimate of his merits. 

Though divers curious and memorable anecdotes occur to 
me of my said friend Judge William Johnson, I do not con- 
ceive that many of them can be very interesting out of court, 
particularly after he becomes defunct, which Nature has cer- 

week, earae hand-in-hand to the court, thanked his lordship, and told him 
their neighbor had settled the whole affair square and straight to their en- 
tire satisfaction. Lord Yelverton used to tell the anecdote with great glee. 



JUDGE WILLIAM JOHNSON. 277 

tainly set down as a " motion of course." One or tAvo, how- 
ever, which connect themselves with my egotistical feelings, 
shall not be omitted. At the same time, I assure him that I 
hj no means approve of our late brother Daly's method of rea- 
soning, who, on his speaking rather indecorously of Mr. "Wil- 
liam Johnson, in his absence, at the bar-mess on circuit, was 
tartly and very properly asked by the present Mr. Justice 
Jebb " why he should say such things of Mr. Johnson behind 
his back." — "Because," replied Mr. Daly, "I would not Jiurt 
his feelings by saying them to his face^ 

I often reflect on a most singular circumstance which oc- 
curred between Johnson and me, as proving the incalculability 
of what is called in the world " fortune," which, in my mind, 
can not have a better definition than " the state lottery of na- 
ture." My friend is the son of ja respectable apothecary, in 
Pishamble street, Dublin, and was called to the bar some few 
years before me ; but the world being blind as to our respec- 
tive merits, I got immediately into considerable business, and 
he, though a much wiser man and a much cleverer lawyer, got 
none at all. Prosperity, in short, deluged me as it were ; 
when suddenly I fell ill of a violent fever on circuit, which 
nearly ended my career. Under these circumstances, John- 
son acted by me in a most kind and friendly manner, and in- 
sisted on remaining with me, to the neglect of his own con- 
cerns. This I would not allow ; but I never forgot the prof- 
fered kindness, and determined, if ever it came within my 
power, to repay his civility. 

The next year I was restored to health, and my career of 
good fortune started afresh, while poor Johnson had still no 
better luck. He remained assiduous, friendly, and good na- 
tured to me ; but at the same time he drooped, and told me at 
Wexford, in a state of despondency, that he was determined 
to quit the bar and go into orders. I endeavored to dissuade 
him from this, because I had a presentiment that he would 
eventually succeed ; and I fairly owned to him that I doubted 
much if he were mild enough for a parson. 

In about two years after, I was appointed king's counsel. 
My stuff-gown had been, so far, the most fortunate one of our 



278 Anecdotes of irish judges. 

profession, and Johnson's the least so. I advised him to get a 
/new gown ; and shortly after, in the whim of the moment, 
fancying there might be some seeds of good luck sticking to 
the folds of my old stuff after I had quitted it for a silken robe, 
I despatched a humorous note to Johnson, together with the 
stuff-gown, as a mark of my gratitude for his attentions, beg- 
ging he would accept it from a friend and well-wisher, and try 
if wearing it would be of equal service to him as to me. 

He received my jocose gift very pleasantly, and in good 
part ; and, laughing at my conceit, put on the gown. But, 
whatever may become of prepossessions, certain it is that from 
that period Johnson prospered ; his business gradually grew 
larger; and, in proportion as it increased, he became what 
they call in Ireland, liigli enough to everybody but the attor- 
neys ; and thus my friend William Johnson trudged on through 
thick and thin to the parliament-house, into which Lord Oas- 
tlereagh stuffed him, as he said himself, " to put an end to it." 
However he kept a clear lookout, and now sits in the place his 
elder brother, Judge Robert had occupied, who was rather 
singularly ^^?^judged for having Cohhettized Lord Redesdale, 
as will hereafter appear. 

Old Mr. Johnson, the father of these two gentlemen, when 
upward of sixty, procured a diploma as physician — to make 
the family genteeler. He was a decent, orderly, good kind of 
apothecary, and a very respectable, though somewhat ostenta- 
tious doctor; and, above all, a good, orthodox, hard-praying 
protestant. I was much amused one day after dinner at Mr. 
Hobson's, at Bushy, near Dublin, where the doctor, Curran, 
myself, and many others were in company. The doctor de- 
lighted in telling of the successes of his sons. Bob, Bill, Gam, 
and Tom the attorney, as he termed them ; he was fond of 
attributing Bob's advancement rather to the goodness of Provi- 
dence than that of the marquis of Downshire ; and observed, 
most parentally, that he had brought up his boys, from their 
very childhood, with " the fear of God always before their 
eyes." " Ah ! 'twas a fortunate circumstance indeed, doctor," 
said Gurran, "very fortunate indeed — that you frightened 
them so early." / 



JUDGE KELLY. 279 

One of the most honorable and hnmane judges I ever saw 
■upon the Irish bench was the late Justice Kelly, of the com- 
mon pleas. He acquired professionally a very large fortune, 
and died at a great age, beloved and regretted by every being 
who had known him. It was he who tried the cause of Lady 

M , and never did I see him chuckle with pleasure and a 

proper sense of gallantry, more than he did at the verdict in 
that case. 

He was no common man. Numerous anecdotes have been 
told of him : many singular ones I myself witnessed ; but none 
which did not do credit to some just or gentlemanly feeling. 
He had practised several years in the West Indies ; and 
studying at the temple on his return, was in due season ad- 
mitted to the Irish bar, to the head of which he rose with 
universal approbation. 

At the time the Irish insisted on a declaration of their inde- 
pendence. Judge Kelly had attained the high dignity of prime- 
sergeant, a law-office not known in England: in Ireland the 
prime-sergeant had rank and precedence of the attorney and 
solicitor-general. On the government of Ireland first opposing 
that declaration of independence, Kelly, from his place in 
parliament, declared " he should consider it rather a disgrace 
than an honor to wear the prime-sergeant's gown under a min- 
istry which resisted the rights of his country !" and imme- 
diately sent in his resignation, and retired to the rank of a 
private barrister. 

Among such a people, and in consequence of such conduct, 
it is useless to attempt describing his popularity. His business 
rose to an extent beyond his powers. Nobody was satisfied 
who had not Tom Kelly for his advocate in the courts ; no 
suitor was content who had not Tom Kelly's opinion as to 
title : all purchasers of property must have Tom Kelly's sanc- 
tion for their speculations. In a word, he became both an 
oracle and a fortuneteller : his court bag greAv too heavy for 
his strength, but he got through every cause gallantly and 
cheerfully ; he was always prepared ; his perseverance never 
yielded ; his arguments seldom failed ; his spirits never flagged. 
This enviable old man lived splendidly, yet saved a large 



280 ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

fortune. At length, it was found so unpopular to leave him at 
the bar, that he was first appointed solicitor-general, and then 
mounted on the bench of the common pleas, where having sat 
many years, he retired to his beautiful country residence, near 
Stradbally, Queens county, and lived as a country-gentleman 
in hospitable magnificence. He married three of his daughters 
well, pursued his field-sports to his death, and departed this 
world to the unanimous regret of all who knew him. 

Judge Kelly's only son, while his father yet lived, turned 
methodist ; got infatuated among devotees and old women ; 
became a sectarian preacher ! and has, by these ignoble means 
contrived, as thoroughly as the possession of a large fortune 
will permit him, to bury once more the family name in that 
obscurity whence his father had raised it. After Judge Kelly 
had assumed the bench, the public began to find out that his 
legal knowledge had been overrated ! his opinions were over- 
ruled, his advice thought scarce worth having, his deductions 
esteemed illogical : in short, he lost altogether the character 
of an infallible lawyer, but had the happiness of thinking he 
had confirmed his reputation for honor, justice, and integrity. 
He used to say, laughingly, " So they find out now that I am 
not a very stanch lawyer : I am heartily glad they did not 
find it out thirty years ago !" ^ 

He loved the world, and this was only gratitude, for the 
world loved him ; and nobody ever yet enjoyed his existence 
with more cheerfulness and composure. " Egad !" he used to 
say, " this world is wheeling round and round quite too fast to 
please me. For my part I'd rather be a young shoe-boy than 
an old judge." (Who would not ? says the author.) He al- 
ways most candidly admitted his legal mistakes : I recollect 
my friend William Johnson once pressed him very fiercely to 
a decision in his favor, and stating as an argument (in his 
usual peremptory tone to judges he was not afraid of) that 
there could be no doubt on the point — precedent was impera- 
tive in the matter, as his lordship had decided the same points 
the same way twice before. 

" So, Mr. Johnson," said the judge, looking archly — shifting 
liis seat somewhat — and shrugging up his right shoulder, " so ! 



AKTHTJR WOLFE, AFTEEWAED BAEON KILWAEDEN. 281 

because I decided wrong twice, Mr. Johnson, you'd have me 
do so a third time ? No, no, Mr. Johnson ! you must excuse 
me. I'll decide the other way this bout;" and so he did. 

The anecdotes of his quaint humor are in fact innumerable, 
and some of his charges quite extraordinary. His profile was 
very like Edmund Burke's : he had that sharp kind of nose 
which gives a singular cast to the whole contour ; but there 
was always an appearance of drollery lurking in his counte- 
nance. No man could more justly boast of carrying about him 
proofs of nationality, as few ever had the Irish dialect stronger. 
It Avas in every word^ and every motion ! Ourran used to say 
he had the brogue in his s/wulders. If Judge Kelly conceived 
he had no grounds to be ashamed of his country, she had still 
less to be ashamed of him. He was calculated to do credit to 
any land. 

I also had the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Arthur 
Wolfe intimately, afterward Baron Kilwarden and chief justice 
of Ireland. This gentleman had, previously to his advance- 
ment, acquired very high eminence as an equity lawyer : he 
was much my senior at the bar. 

Wolfe had no natural genius, and but scanty general infor- 
mation : his talents were originally too feeble to raise him by 
their unassisted efforts into any political importance. Though 
patronized by the earl of Tyrone, and supported by the Beres- 
ford aristocracy, his rise was slow and gradual ; and his pro- 
motion to the office of solicitor-general had been long pre- 
dicted, not from his ability, but in consequence of his reputation 
as a good-hearted man and a sound lawyer. 
• On the elevation of Mr. John Fitzgibbon to the seals, Mr. 
Wolfe succeeded him as attorney-general, the parliamentary 
duties of which ofiice were, however, far beyond the reach of 
his oratory, and altogether too important for his proportion of 
intellect ; and hence he had to encounter difiiculties which he 
was unable successfully to surmount. The most gifted mem- 
bers of his own profession were, in fact, then linked with the 
first-rate political talents of the Irish nation, to bear down 
those measures which it had become Mr. Wolfe's imperative 
official duty to originate or support. 



282 ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

In the singular cliaracter of Mr. Wolfe, there were strange 
diversities of manner and of disposition. On first acquaintance 
he seldom failed to make an unfavorable impression ; but 
his arrogance was only apparent— his pride innoxious — his 
haughtiness theoretical. In. society, he so whimsically mixed 
and mingled solemn ostentation with playful frivolity, that 
the man and the boy, the judge and the jester, were generally 
alternate. 

Still Kilwarden's heart was right, and his judgment sufficing. 
In feeling he was quick — in apprehension slow. The union 
of these qualities engendered a sort of spurious sensibility, 
which constantly led him to apprehend offence where none 
was ever intended. He had a constant dread of being thought 
petulant ; and the excitement produced by this dread became 
itself the author of that t6;chy irritation which he so much 
deprecated. Thus, like certain humorous characters on the 
stage, he frequently worked himself into silly anger by endeav- 
oring to show that he was perfectly good-tempered. 

Lord Kilwarden, not perceiving the true distinction between 
pride and dignity, thought he was supporting the appearance 
of the one, when, in fact, he was only practising the formality 
of the other : and, after a long intercourse with the world, he 
every day evinced that he knew any one else's character 
better than his own. As attorney-general during a most 
trying era, his moderation, justice, and discretion were not less 
evident than was his strict adherence to ofiicial duties ; and 
the peculiarities of his manner were merged in the excellence 
of his more sterling qualities. 

In the celebrated cause of the king against Heavy (in the 
king's bench), Mr. Curran and I were Heavy's counsel, and 
afterward moved to set aside the verdict on grounds which 
we considered to form a most important point, upon legal 
principles. 

Ourran had concluded his speech, and I was stating what I 
considered to be the law of the case, when Lord Kilwarden, 
impatient and fidgetty, interrupted me — " God forbid, Mr. 
Barrington," said he, " that should be the law !" 

"God forbid, my lord," answered I, "that it should not be 
the law." 



AN INVITATION TO DINNEK. 283 

" You are rougli, sir," exclaimed lie. 

" More than one of us have the same infirmity, my lord." 

" I was right, sir," said he. 

*' So was I, my lord," returned I, unbendingly. 

He fidgeted again, and looked haughty and sour. I thought 
he would break out, but he only said, "Go on, sir — go on, 
sir!" I proceeded: and, while I was speaking, he wrote a 
note, which was handed to me by the officer: I kept it as 
affording a curious trait of human character. It ran thus : — 

" Barrington : You are the most impudent fellow I ever met. 
Come and dine with me this day at six. You will meet some 
strangers, so I hope you will behave yourself, though I have 
no reason to expect it ! " K." 

To conclude this sketch — Lord Kilwarden was, in grain, 
one of the best men I ever knew : but, to be liked, it was 
necessary he should be known; and the more intimately 
known, the more apparent were his good qualities. He had 
not an error, to counterbalance which some merit did not ex- 
hibit itself. He had no wit, though he thought he said good 
/things : as a specimen of his punning, he used to call Cwrrcmj 
•-" GooseherryP '"^ 

The instability of human affairs was lamentably exemplified 
in his lordship's catastrophe : his life was prosperous, and 
deservedly so ; his death cruel and unmerited. There scarcely 
exists on record a murder more inhuman, or more wanton than 
that of the chief-justice. 

In 1803, on the evening when the partial but sanguinary 
insurrection broke out in Dublin (organized by Mr. Emmet), 
Lord Kilwarden had retired to his country-house near the 
metropolis, and was tranquilly enjoying the society of his 
family, when he received an order from government to repair 
to town on particular business : in fact, the police, the secreta- 
ries, and all attached to the executive, had continued incredu- 
lous and supine, and never believed the probability of a rising 
until it was at the very point of commencing. 

Lord Kilwarden immediately ordered his carriage, and 
attended only by his nephew (a clergyman), and one of his 
daughters, proceeded to Dublin without the least suspicion of 



284 A.NECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES. 

violence or inteiTuptioii. His road, however, lay through a 
wide and long street, wherein the rebels had first assembled, 
and previously to Lord Kilwarden's arrival, had commenced 
operations. Before his lordship could conceive, or had time to 
ask, the cause of this assemblage, he was in the midst of their 
ranks; hemmed in on every side by masses of armed ruffians, 
there was no possibility of retreat ; and without being conscious 
of a crime, he heard the yells of murder and revenge on every 
side around him, and perceived that he was lost beyond the 
power of redemption. 

A general shout ran among the insurgents of " The chief 
justice ! — The chief justice !" Their crime would have been 
the same in either case, but it was alleged that they were mis- 
taken as to the person, conceiving it to be Lord Carleton, who, 
as justice of the common pleas, had some years before ren- 
dered himself beyond description obnoxious to the disaffected 
of Dublin, in consequence of having been the judge who tried 
and condemned the two Counsellors Sheers, who were executed 
for treason, and to whom that nobleman had been testamen- 
tary guardian, by the will of their father. The mob thought 
only of him, and Lord Kilwarden fell a victim to their revenge 
against Lord Carleton. 

The moment the cry went forth, the carriage was stopped, 
and the door torn open. The clergyman and Miss Wolfe got 
out and ran ; the latter was suffered to escape, but the pikemen 
pursued, and having come up with Mr. Wolfe, mangled and 
murdered, in a horrid manner, as fine and inoffensive a young 
gentleman as I ever knew. 

Hundreds of the murderers now surrounded the carriage, 
ambitious only who should first spill the blood of a chief jus- 
tice ; a multitude of pikemen at once assailed him, but his 
wounds proved that he had made many efforts to evade them. 
His hands were lacerated all over, in the act of resistance ; 
but, after a long interval of torture, near thirty stabs in various 
parts of his body, incapacitated him from struggling farther 
with his destiny. They dragged him into the street ; yet, when 
conveyed into a house, he was still sensible, and able to speak 
a few words, but soon after expired, to the great regret of all 



BOBEET EMMET ROBERT JOHNSON. 285 

those who knew him well, as I did, and were able to separate 
his frivolity from his excellent qualities. 

Certain events which arose out of- that cruel murder are 
singular enough. Mr. Emmet, a young gentleman of great 
abilities, but of nearly frantic enthusiasm, who had been the 
organ and leader of that partial insurrection, was son to the 
state physician of Ireland, Doctor Emmet. Some time after 
the unfortunate event, he was discovered, arrested, tried, and 
executed. On his trial, Mr. Plunkett Avas employed to act for 
the crown, with which he had not before been connected, but 
was soon after appointed solicitor-general. The circumstances 
of that trial were printed, and are no novelty, but the result 
of it was a paper which appeared in Cobbett against Lord 
Hedesdale, and which was considered a libel. It was traced 
to Judge Eobert Johnson, of the common pleas, who was in 
consequence pursued by the then attorney-general, Mr. O'Gra- 
dy, as was generally thought by the bar, and as I still think, 
in a manner contrary to all established principles both of law 
and justice. The three law courts had the case argued before 
them ; the judges differed on every point : however ,1 the result 
was that Judge Johnson, being kidnapped, was taken over to 
England, and tried before the king's bench at Westminster, for 
a libel undoubtedly written in Ireland, although published by 
Cobbet in both countries. He was found guilty, but on the 
terms of his resigning office, judgment was never called for. 
As, however. Judge Eobert Johnson was one of those members 
of parliament who had forgotten their patriotism and voted for 
a union, the government could not in reason abandon him alto- 
gether. They therefore gave him twelve hundred pounds a 
year for life; and Eobert Johnson, Esq., has lived many 
years not a bit the worse for Westminster ; while his next 
brother (to whom I have already paid my respects), was made 
judge of the common pleas, and rules in his stead. This is 
the Mr. Eobert Johnson who, from his having been inducted 
into two offices, Curran used to style, on alluding to him in the 
house of commons, " the learned barrack master." He was a 
well read entertaining man, extremely acute, an excellent 
writer, and a trustworthy, agreeable companion. But there 



286 THE FIKE-EATEKS. 

was sometliing tart in his look and address, and he was neither 
good natured in his manner nor gentlemanly in his appearance, 
which circumstances, altogether, combined with his public 
habits to make him extremely unpopular. He did not affect 
to be a great pleader, but he would have made a first-rate 
attorney ; he was very superior to his brother William in every- 
thing except law and arrogance, in which accomplishments 
William, when a barrister, certainly was entitled to a pre- 
eminence which, I believe, none of his contemporaries refused 
to concede him. 



THE FIRE-EATEES. 

Passion fm- Duelling in Ireland — Ancient Duel before the Judges and Law Authorities, &.C., 
&c. at the Castle of Dublin — List of OfRcinl and Judicial Duellists in Autiior's Time — 
Family Weapons Described — The Fire-Eaters' Society — Their Chiefs — -Elegant Institu- 
tion of the Knights ot Tara — Description of them — Their Exhibitions and Meetings — 
The Rult'8 of Duelling and Points of H(mor Established by the Fire-Eaters, called the 
Thirty-six Commandments — Singular Duel between the Author and Mr. Richard Daly, a 
Remarkable Duellist and Fop — Duly Hit — Author's Second the Celebrated Balloon Cros- 
by — His Singular Appearance and Charactej-. 

It may be objected that anecdotes of duelling have more 
than their due proportion of space in these sketches, and that 
no writer should publish feats of that nature (if feats they can 
be called), especially when performed by persons holding 
grave offices, or by public functionaries. These are very plau- 
sible, rational observations, and are now anticipated for the 
purpose of being answered. 

It might be considered a sufiicient excuse, that these stories 
refer to events long past ; that they are amusing, and the more 
so as being matters of fact (neither romance nor exaggeration), 
and so various that no two of them are at all similar. J3ut a 
much better reason can be given; — namely, that there is no 
other species of detail or anecdote which so clearly brings in 
illustration before a reader's eye the character, genius, and 
manners of a country, as that which exemplifies the distin- 
guishing propensities of its population for successive ages. 
Much knowledge will necessarily be gained by possessing 
such a series of anecdotes, and by then going on to trace the 



LIST OF OFFICIAL DUELLISTS. 287 

decline of such propensities to tlie progress of civilization in 
that class of society where they had been prevalent. 

As to the objection founded on the rank or profession of the 
parties concerned, it is only necessary to subjoin the following 
short abstract from a long list of official duellists who have 
figured away in my time, and some of them before my eyes. 
The number of grave personages v/ho appear to have adopted 
the national taste (though in most instances it was undoubtedly 
before their elevation to the bench that they signalized them- 
selves in single combat), removes from me all imputation of 
pitching upon and exposing any unusual frailty ; and I think 
I may challenge any country in Europe to show such an as- 
semblage of gallant judicial and official antagonists at fire and 
sword as is exhibited even in the following list.* 

The lord chancellor of Ireland, Earl Clare, fought the mas- 
ter of the rolls, Cun-an. 

The chief justice K. B., Lord Olonmell, fought Lord Tyrawly 
(a privy counsellor). Lord Llandaff, and two others. 

The judge of the county of Dublin, Egan, fought the master 
of the rolls, E-oger Barret, and three others. 

The chancellor of the exchequer, the right honorable Isaac 
Oorry, fought the right honorable Henry Grattan, a privy coun- 
sellor, and another. 

A baron of the exchequer, Baron Medge, fought his brother- 
in-law and two others. 

* Single combat was formerly a very prevalent and favorite mode of ad- 
minister'mg justice in Ireland ; and, not being considered so brutal as bull- 
fights, or other beastly amusements of that nature, it was authorized by law, 
9nd frequently performed before the high authorities and their ladies; 
bishops, judges, and other persons of high office, generally honoring the 
spectacle with their presence. 

The last exhibition of that nature which I have read of, was between two 
Irish gentlemen ; Connor Mac Cormac O'Connor, and Teige Mac Kilpatrick 
O'Connor. They fought with broad swords and skeens (large knives) in 
the castle of Dublin, in the presence of the archbishop and all the chief 
authorities and ladies of rank. They had hewed each other for a full hour, 
when Mr. Mac Kilpatrick O'Connor, happening to miss his footing, Mr. Mac 
Cormac O'Connor began to cut his head off very expertly with his knife, 
which, after a good deal of cutting, struggling, and haclung, he was at length 
80 fortunate as to effect ; and, having got his head clear off the shoulders, 
he handed it to the lords justices (who were present), and by whom the 
head and neck was most graciously received. 



288 THE fire-eatp:rs. 

The chief justice C. P., Lord Norbury, fought Fire-eater 
Fitzgerald, and two other gentlemen, and frightened Napper 
Tandy and several besides : one hit only. 

The judge of the prerogative court, Doctor Duigenan, fought 
one barrister and frightened another on the ground.— N. B. 
The latter case is a curious one. 

The chief counsel to the revenue, Henry Deane Grady, 
fought Counsellor O'Mahon, Counsellor Campbell, and others ; 
all hits. 

The master of the rolls fought Lord Buckinghamshire, the 
chief secretary, &c. 

The provost of the university of Dublin, the right honora- 
ble Hely Hutchinson, fought Mr. Doyle, master in chan- 
cery (they went to the plains of Minden to fight), and some 
others. 

The chief-justice C. P., Patterson, fought three country-gen- 
tlemen, one of them with swords, another with guns, and wound- 
ed all of them. 

The right honorable George Ogle, a privy counsellor, fought 
Barney Ooyle, a distiller, because he was. a papist. They 
fired eight shots and no hit ; but the second broke his own arm. 

Thomas Wallace, K. C, fought Mr. O'Gorman, the catholic 
secretary. 

Counsellor O'Connell fought the Orange chieftain ; fatal to. 
the champion of protestant ascendency. 

The collector of the customs of Dublin, the honorable Francis 
Hutchinson, fought the right honorable Lord Mountmorris. 

The reader of this dignified list (which, as I have said, is 
only an abridgment*) will surely see no great indecorum in an 
admiralty judge having now and then exchanged broadsides, 
more especially as they did not militate against the law of na- 
tions. 

However, it must be owned that there were occasionally 
very peaceable and forgiving instances among the barristers. 
I saw a very brave king's counsel, Mr. Curran, horse-whipped 
most severely in the public street, by a very savage nobleman, 

* Two hundred and twenty-seven memorable and oflScial duels have ac- 
tually been fought during my grand climacteric. 



NATIONAL PASSION FOE DUELLINa. 289 

Lord Clanmorris ; and another barrister was said to have had 
his eye saluted by a moist messenger from a gentleman's lip 
(Mr. May's) in the body of the house of commons. Yet, both 
those little incivilities were arranged very amicably, in a pri- 
vate manner, and without the aid of any deadly weapon what- 
soever, I suppose for variety's sake. But the people of Dublin 
used to observe, that a judgment came upon Counsellor O'Cal- 
laghan, for having kept Mr, Ourran c[uiet in the horse-whipping 
affair, inasmuch as his own brains were literally scattered 
about the ground by an attorney very soon after he had turned 
pacificator. 

In my time, the number of killed and wounded among the 
bar was very considerable. The other learned professions suf- 
fered much less. 

It is, in fact, incredible what a singular passion the Irish 
gentlemen (though in general excellent-tempered fellows) for- 
merly had for fighting each other and immediately making 
friends again. A duel was indeed considered a necessary 
piece of a young man's education, but by no means a ground 
for future animosity with his opponent. 

One of the most humane men existing, an intimate friend of 
mine, and at present a prominent public character, but who (as 
the expression then was) had frequently played both " hilt to 
hilt," and " muzzle to muzzle," was heard endeavoring to keep 
a little son of his quiet, who was crying for something : " Come 
now, do be a good boy ! Come, now," said my friend, " don't 
cry, and I'll give you a case of nice little pistols to-morrow. 
Come, now, don't cry, and we'll shoot them all in the morning." — 
'_' Yes ! yes ! we'll shoot them all in the morning !" responded 
the child, drying his little eyes, and delighted at the notion. 
I have heard the late Sir Charles Ormsby, who affected to be 
a wit, though at best but a humorist and gourmand, liken the 
story of my friend and his son to a butcher at ]S[enagli, who in 
like manner wanted to keep Ids son from crying, and effectu- 
ally stopped his tears by saying- — " Come, now, be a good boy 
— don't cry, and you shall kill a lamb to-iporrow! Now won't 
you be good ?" — " Oh, yes, yes," said the child, sobbing ; " fa- 
ther, is the lainh ready .?" 

13 



Witliin iny recollection, tliis national propensity for figliting 
and slaug'litering was nearly universal, originating in the spirit 
and habits of former times. When men had a glowing ambi- 
tion to excel in all manner of feats and exercises, they natu- 
rally conceived that manslaughter, in an Jwnesi way (that is 
not knowing wliicli would be slaughtered), was the most chiv- 
alrous and gentlemanly of all their accomplishments ; and this 
idea gave rise to an assiduous cultivation of the art's of combat, 
and dictated the wisest laws for carrying them into execution 
with regularity and honor. 

About the year 1777, the Fire-eaters were in great repute in 
Ireland. No young fellow could finish his education till he 
had exchanged shots with some of his acquaintances. The 
first tAvo questions always asked as to a young man's respecta- 
bility and qualifications, particularly when he proposed for a 
lady-wife, were — "What family is he of?" — "Did he ever 
blaze?" 

Tipperary and G-alway were the ablest schools of the duel- 
ling science. Galway was most scientific at the sword : Tip- 
perary most practical and prized at the pistol : Mayo not amiss 
at either : Roscommon and Sligo had many professors and a 
high reputation in the leaden branch of the pastime. 

When I was at the universit}^ Jemmy Keogh, Buck English, 
Oosey Harrison, Crowe E-yan, Heddy Long, Amby Bodkin, 
Squire Falton, Squire Blake, Amby Fitzgerald, and a few oth- 
ers, vfere supposed to understand the points of honor better 
than any men in Ireland, and were constantly referred to. 

In the north, the Fallows and the Fentons were the first 
hands at it ; and most counties could have then boasted their 
regular point-of-honor men. The present chief-justice of the 
common pleas was supposed to have understood the thing as 
well as any gentleman in Ireland. 

In truth, these oracles were in general gentlemen of good 
connections* and most respectable families, otherAvise nobody 
would fight or consult them. 

* There was an association in the year 1782 (a volunteer corps), which 
was called the "Independent Light Horse." They were not confined to one 
district, and none could be admitted but the younger brothers of the most 



FAMILY WEAPONS JEMMY KEOGH. 291 

Every family then had a case of hereditary pistols, -u^hich 
descended as an heir-loom, together with a long, silver-hilted 
sword, for the use of their posterity. Our family pistols, de- 
nominated pelters, were brass (I believe my second brother has 
them still). The barrels were very long, and point-hlankers. 
They were included in the armory of our ancient castle of Bnl- 
lynakill in the reign of Elizabeth (the stocks, locks, and hair- 
triggers, were, however, modern), and had descended from fa- 
ther to son from that period : one of them was named " Sweet- 
Lips," the other " The Darling." The family rapier was called 
*' Skiver the Pullet" by my grand-uncle. Captain Wheeler Bar- 
rington, who had fought with it repeatedly, and run through 
different parts of their persons several Scots officers, who had 
challenged him all at once for some national reflection. It 
was a very long, narrow-bladed, straight cut-and-tbrust, as 
sharp as a razor, with a silver hilt, and a guard of buff leather 
inside it. I kept this rapier as a curiosity for some time ; but 
it was stolen during my absence at Temple. 

I knew Jemmy Keogh extremely well. He was considered 
in the main a peacemaker, for he did not like to see anybody 
fight but himself; and it was universally admitted that he 
never killed any man who did not well deserve it. He was a 
plausible, although black-lox)king fellow, with remarkably 
thick, long eyebrows, closing with a tuft over his nose. He 
unfortunately killed a cripple in the Phoenix park, which acci- 
dent did him great mischief. He was land-agent to Bourke 
of Glinsk, to whom he always officiated as second. 

At length, so many quarrels arose without sufficiently digni- 
fied provocation, and so many things were considered quarrels 
of course, which were not quarrels at all — that the principal 
fire-eaters of the south saw clearly disrepute was likely to be 
thrown on both the science and its professors, and thought it 

respectable families. They were all both "hilt and muzzle boys;" and thnt 
no member should set himself up as greater than nnother, every individual of 
the corps was o\)liged, on reception, to give his honor that "he could cover 
his fortune with the crown of his hat." 

Roscommon and Sligo then furnished some of the finest y6ung fellows 
(fire-eaters) I ever saw. Their spirit and decorum were equally admirable, 
and their honor and liberality conspicuous on all occasions. 



292 THE FIEE-EATERS. 

full time to interfere and arrange matters upon a proper, 
steady, rational, and moderate footing ; and to regulate the 
time, place, and other circumstances of duelling, so as to gov- 
ern all Ireland on one principle — thus establishing a uniform, 
national code of the lex pugnandi ; proving, as Hugo Grotius 
did, that it was for the benefit of all belligerents to adopt the 
same code and regulations. 

In furtherance of this object, a branch-society had been 
formed in Dublin, termed the " Knights of Tara," which met 
once a month at the theatre, Oapel street, gave premiums for 
fencing, and proceeded in the most laudably systematic man- 
ner. The amount of admission-money was laid out on silver 
cups, and given to the best fencers as prizes, at quarterly ex- 
hibitions of pupils and amateurs. 

Fencing with the small-sword is certainly a most beautiful 
and noble exercise : its acquirement confers a fine, bold, manly 
carriage, a dignified mien, a firm step, and graceful motion. 
But, alas ! its practisers are now supplanted by contemptible 
groups of smirking quadrillers with unweaponed belts, stuffed 
breasts, and strangled loins! — a set of squeaking dandies, 
whose sex may be readily mistaken, or, I should rather say, is 
of no consequence. 

The theatre of the knights of Tara, on these occasions, was 
ahvays overflowing. The combatants were dressed in close 
cambric jackets, garnished with ribands, each wearing the fa- 
vorite color of his fair one ; bunches of ribands also dangled at 
their knees, and roses adorned their morocco slippers, Avhich 
had buff soles to prevent noise in their lunges. No masks or 
visors were used as in these more timorous times ; on the con- 
trary, every feature was uncovered, and its inflections all visi- 
ble. The ladies appeared in full morning-dresses, each hand- 
ing his foil to her champion for the day, and their presence 
animating the singular exhibition. From the stage-boxes the 
prizes were likewise handed to the conquerors by the fair ones, 
accompanied each with a wreath of laurel, and a smile then 
more valued than a hundred victories ! The tips of the foils 
were blackened, and therefore instantly betrayed the hits on 
the cambric jacket, and proclaimed without doubt the success- 



THE KNIGHTS OF TARA. 293 

ful combatant. All was decorum, gallantly, spirit, and good 
temper. 

The knights of Tara also held a select committee to decide 
on all actual questions of honor referred to them : to reconcile 
differences, if possible ; if not, to adjust the terms and continu- 
ance of single combat. Doubtful points were solved generally 
on the peaceable side, provided women were not insulted or 
defamed ; but when that was the case, the knights were obdu- 
rate, and blood must be seen. Thej were constituted bj bal- 
lot, something in the manner of the Jockey club, but without 
the possibility of being dishonorable, or the opportunity of 
cheating each other. 

This most agreeable and useful association did not last 
above two or three years. I can not tell why it broke up : I 
rather think, however, the original .fire-eaters thought it frivo- 
lous, or did not like their own ascendency to be rivalled. It was 
said that they threatened direct hostilities against the knights ; 
and I am the more disposed to believe this, because, soon after, 
a comprehensive code of the laws and points of honor was 
issued by the southern fire-eaters, with directions that it should 
be strictly observed by gentlemen throughout the kingdom, 
and kept in their pistol-cases, that ignorance might never be 
pleaded. This code was not circulated in print, but very 
numerous written copies were sent to the different county 
clubs, &c. 

My father got one for his sons ; and I transcribed most (I 
believe not all) of it into some blank leaves. These rules 
brought the whole business of duelling into a focus, and have 
Been much acted upon down to the present day. They called 
them in Galway " the thirty-six commandments." 

As far as my copy went, they appear to have run a& fol- 
lows : — 

The practice of duelling and points of honor settled at Clon- 
mell summer assizes, 1777, by the gentlemen-delegates of Tip- 
perary, Galway, Mayo, Sligo, and lloscommon, and prescribed 
for general ado^~^ Tlon throughout Ireland. 

Rule 1. — The first offence requires the first apology, though 
+1,^ - '^'"®' ^*^ -- have been more offensive than the insult. Ex- 



294: THE FIEE-EATERS. 

ample : A. tells B. lie is impertinent, &c. B. retorts tliat he 
lies : yet A. mnst make the first apology, because he gave the 
first offencej and then (after one fire) B. may explain away the 
retort by subsequent apology. 

EuLE 2. — But if the parties would rather fight on, then, af- 
ter two shots each (but in no case before) B. may explain first, 
and A. apologize afterward. 

N. B. The above rules apply to all cases of offences in re- 
tort not of a stronger class than the example. 

Rule 3. — If a doubt exist who gave the first offence, the 
decision rests with the seconds : if they won't decide, or canH 
agree, the matter must proceed to two shots, or to a hit, if the 
challenger require it. 

E,ULE 4. — When the lie dArect is \h^ first offence, the aggres- 
sor must either beg pardon in express terms ; exchange two 
shots previous to apology ; or three shots followed up by ex- 
planation ; or fire on till a severe hit be received by one party 
or the other. 

KuLE 5. — As a blow is strictly prohibited under any circum- 
stances among gentlemen, no verbal apology can be received 
for such an insult. The alternatives therefore are — the offender 
handing a cane to the injured party, to be used on his own 
back, at the same time begging pardon ; firing oh until one or 
both are disabled ; or exchanging three shots, and then asking 
pardon without the proffer of the cane. 

If swords are used, the parties engage until one is well 
blooded, disabled, or disarmed ; or until, after receiving a 
wound, and blood being drawn, the aggressor begs pardon. 

N. B. A disarm is considered the same as a disahle. The 
dis^rmer may (strictly) break his adversary's sword; but, if it 
be the challenger who is disarmed, it is considered as ungener- 
ous to do so. 

In case the challenged be disarmed and refuses to ask par- 
don or atone, he must not be killed, as formerly ; but the chal- 
lenger may lay his own sword on the aggressor's shoulder, 
then break the aggressor's sword, and say, *• I oare your life !" 
The challenged can never revive that quarrel — the challenger 
may. 



THE THIETT-SIX COMMANDMENTS. 295 

Rule 6. — If A. gives B. the lie, and B. retorts by a blow 
(being the two greatest offences), no reconciliation can take 
place till after tAvo discbarges each, ' or a severe hit ; after 
which, B, may beg A.'s pardon humbly for the blow, and then 
A may explain simply for the lie ; because a bloAv is never al- 
lowable> and the offence of the lie therefore merges in it. (See 
preceding rules.) 

N.B. Challenges for undivulged causes may be reconciled 
on the ground, after one shot. An explanation or the slightest 
hit should be sufficient in such cases, because no personal offence 
transpired. 

EuLE 7. — But no apology can be received, in any case, af- 
ter the parties have actually taken their ground, without ex- 
change of fires. 

KuLE -8. — In the above case, no challenger is obliged to 
divulge his cause of challenge (if private) unless required by 
the challenged so to do before their meeting. 

Rule 9. — All imputations of cheating at play, races, &c., 
to be considered equivalent to a blow ; but may be reconciled 
after one shot, on admitting their falsehood, and begging par- 
don publicly. 

Rule 10. — Any insult to a lady under a gentleman's care 
or protection, to be considered as, by one degree, a greater 
offence than if given to the gentleman personally, and to be 
regulated accordingly. 

Rule 11. — Offences originating or accruing from the sup- 
port of ladies' reputation, to be considered as less unjustifiable 
than any others of the same class, and as admitting of slighter 
apologies by the aggressor : this to be determined by the cir- 
cumstances of the case, but always favorably to the lady. 

Rule 12. — In simple, unpremeditated rencontres with the 
small-sword, or couieau-de chasse, the rule is — first draw, first 
sheath, unless blood be drawn ; then both sheath, and proceed 
to investigation. 

Rule 13. — No dumb shooting or firing in the air admissible 
in any case. The challenger ought not to have challenged 
without receiving offence ; and the challenged ouglit, if he gave 
offence, to have made an apology before he came on the 



296 THE FIKE-EATEES. 

ground : therefore, cldldrenh play must be dislionorable on one 
side or tlie other, and is accordingly prohibited. 

EuLE 14. — Seconds to be of eq^ual rank in society with the 
principals they attend, inasmuch as a second may either choose 
or chance to become a principal, and equality is indispensable. 

KuLE 15. — Challenges are never to be delivered at night, 
unless the party to be challenged intend leaving the place of 
offence before morning ; for it is desirable to avoid all hot- 
headed proceedings. 

Rule 16. — The challenged has the right to choose his own 
weapon, unless the challenger gives his honor he is no swords- 
man ; after which, however, he can not decline any second spe- 
cies of weapon proposed by the challenged. 

E-ULE 17. — The challenged chooses his ground: the chal- 
lenger chooses his distance : the seconds iix the time and terms 
of firing. 

EuLE 18. — The seconds load in presence of each other, 
unless they give their mutual honors they have charged smooth 
and single, which should be held sufficient. 

EuLE 19. — Firing may be regulated — first, by signal; 
secondly, by word of command; or, thirdly, at pleasure — as 
may be agreeable to the parties. In the latter case, the parties 
may fire at their reasonable leisure, but second presents and 
rests are strictly prohibited. 

EuLE 20. — In all cases, a miss-fire is equivalent to a shot, 
and a snap or a non-cock is to be considered as a miss-fire. 

EuLE 21. — Seconds are bound to attempt a reconciliation 
hefore the meeting takes place, or after sufficient firing or hits, 
as specified. 

EuLE 22. — Any wound sufficient to agitate the nerves and 
necessarily make the hand shake, must end the business for 
that day. %^ 

EuLE 23. — If the cause of meeting be of JPlT a nature that 
no apology or explanation can or will be received, the chal- 
lenged takes his ground, and calls on the challenger to proceed 
as he chooses : in such cases, firing at pleasure is the usual 
practice, but may be varied by agreement. 

EuLE 24. — In slight cases, the second hands his principal 



ADDITIONAL GALWAY ARTICLES. 297 

but one pistol ; but, in gross cases, two, holding another case 
ready charged in reserve. 

Rule 25. — 'Where seconds disagree, and resolve to exchange 
shots themselves, it must be at the same time and at right-angles 
with their principals, thus : — 

S 



-P 



S 

If wdth swords, side by side, with five paces interval. 

N. B. — All matters and doubts not herein mentioned, will 
be explained and cleared up by application to the committee, 
w^ho meet alternately at Clonmell and Galway, at the quarter 
sessions, for that purpose. 

Crow Ryan, president ; James Keogh and Amby Bodkin, 
secretaries. 

ADDITIONAL GALWAY ARTICLES. 

KuLE 1. —No party can be allowed to bend his knee or cover 
his side with his left hand, but may present at any level from 
the hip to the eye. 

Rule 2. — Xone can either advance or retreat, if the ground 
be measured. If no ground be measured, either party may 
advance at his pleasure, even to touch muzzle ; but neither can 
advance on his adversary after the fire, unless the adversary 
steps forward on him. 

N. B. — The seconds on both sides stand responsible for this 
last rule being st ripy observed ; bad cases having accrued from 
neglecting of it. '^f^' 

These rules and resolutions of the " fire-eaters" and 
" knights of Tara," were the more deeply impressed on my 
mind, from my having run a great chance of losing my life, 
when a member of the university, in consequence of the strict 
observance of one of them. A young gentleman of Galway, 
Mr. Richard Daly, then a templar, had the greatest predilec- 
tion for single combat of any person (not a society fire-eater) 

13* 



298 THE FIRE-EATERS. 

I ever recollect : he liad fought sixteen duels in the space of 
two years : three with swords and thirteen with pistols ; yet, 
with so little skill or so much good fortune, that not a wound 
worth mentioning occurred, in the course of the whole. This 
gentleman afterward figured for many years as patentee of the 
theatre royal, Dublin, and had the credit of first introducing 
that superior woman and actress, Mrs. Jordan, when Miss 
Francis, on the Dublin boards. 

I was surprised one winter's evening at college, by receiving 
a written challenge in the nature of an invitation^ from Mr. 
Daly, to fight him early the ensuing morning. I never had 
spoken a word to him in my life and scarcely of him, and no 
possible cause of quarrel that I could guess existed between 
us : however, it being then a decided opinion that a first over- 
ture of that nature q.ov\A never be declined, I accepted the invi- 
tation without any inquiry ; writing, in reply, that as to place, 
I chose the field of Donnybrook fair as the fittest spot for all 
sorts of encounters. I had then to look out for a second, and 
resorted to a person with whom I was very intimate, and who, 
as he was a curious character, may be worth noticing. He was 
brother to the unfortunate Sir Edward Crosby, bart., who was 
murdered by a court-martial at Oarlow, May, 1798. My friend 
was afterward called " Balloon Crosby," being the first aeronaut 
who constructed a Hibernian balloon, and ventured to take a 
journey into the sky from Ireland.* 

Crosby was of immense stature, being above six feet three 
inches high : he had a comely-looking, fat ruddy face, and was, 
beyond all comparison, the most ingenious mechanic I ever 
knew. He had a smattering of all sciences, and there was 
sca^'cely an art or a trade of which he had not some practical 
knowledge. His chambers at college were like a general 
workshop for all kinds of artisans. He was very good-tem- 

* And a most unfortunate journey it was for the spectators! The ascent 
was from the duke of Leinster's hvwn, Merrion square. The crowds outside 
were immense, and so many squeezed together and leaned against a thick 
parapet wall fronting the street, that it yielded to the weight and pi-essure, 
and tlie spectators and parapet wall came tumbling down together a great 
depth. Several were killed and many disabled, while Crosby sailed quietly 
over their heads in all human probability, to be drowned before an hour 
had expired, 



SINGULAR DUEL WITH EICHAKD DALY. 299 

pered, exceedingly strong, and as brave as a lion, bnt as dogged 
as a mule : nothing could change a resolution of liis wlien once 
made, and nothing could check or resist his perseverance to 
carry it into execution. He highly approved of my promptness 
in accepting Daly's invitation, hut I told him that I unluckily 
had no pistols, and did not knovr where to procure any against 
the next morning. This puzzled him : but on recollection, he 
said he had no complete pistols neither ; but he had some old 
locks, harrels, and stocks, which, as they did not originally belong 
to each other, he sho^uld find it very difficult to make anything 
of : nevertheless, he would fall to work directly. He kept me 
up till late at night in his chambers, to help him in filing the 
old locks and barrels, and endeavoring to patch up two or three 
of them so as to go ofi" and answer that individual job. Various 
trials were made : much filing, drilling, and scanning, were 
necessary. However, by two o'clock in the morning, we had 
completed three entire pistols, which, though certainly of 
various lengths, and of the most ludicrous workmanship, struck 
their fire 7-igJit icell, and that was all we wanted of them — 
symmetry, as he remarked, being of no great value upon these 
occasions. 

It was before seven o'clock on the twentieth of March, with 
a cold wind and a sleety atmosphere, that we set out on foot 
for the field of Donnybrook fair, after having taken some good 
chocolate, and a plentiful draught of cherry brandy, to keep 
the cold wind out. On arriving, we saw my antagonist and 
his friend, Jack Patterson, nephew to the chief justice, already 
on the ground. I shall never forget Daly's figure. He was a 
very fine-looking young fellow, but with such a squint that it 
was totally impossible to say what he looked at, except his 
nose, of which he never lost sight. His dress (they had come 
in a coach) made me ashamed of my own : he wore a pea-green 
coat, a large tucker with a diamond brooch stuck in it ; a three 
cocked hat with a gold buttonloop and tassels, and silk stock- 
ings ; and a cotteau-de-chasse hung gracefully dangling from his 
thigh. In fact, he looked as if already standing in a state of 
triumph, after having vanquished and trampled on his antago- 
nist. I did not half like his steady position, showy sui-face, 



300 THE riKE-EATEKS. 

and mysterious squint ; and I certainly would rather have ex- 
changed two shots with his slovenly friend, Jack Patterson, than 
one with so magnificent and overbearing an adversary. 

My friend Crosby, without any sort of salutation or prologue, 
immediately cried out " Ground, gentlemen ! ground, ground ! 
damn measurement!" and placing me on his selected spot, 
whispered into my ear " Medio tutissimus iZ>u— never look at 
the head or heels — hip the maccaroni ! the hip for ever, my 
hoy! hip, hip!" — when my antagonist's second, advancing 
and accosting mine, said Mr. Daly could not think of going 
any farther with the business, that he found it was totally a 
mistake on his part, originating through misrepresentation, and 
that he begged to say he was extremely sorry for having given 
Mr. Barrington and his friend the trouble of coming out, hoping 
they would excuse it and shake hands, with him. To this 
arrangement, I certainly had no sort of objection ; but Crosby, 
without hesitation said, " We can not do that yet, sir : I'll show 
you we can't : (taking a little manuscript book out of his 
breeches pocket,) there's the rules ! — look at that, sir," con- 
tinued he, '*' see No. 7 : ' No apology can be received after the 
parties meet, without a jire.^ You see, there's the rule," pur- 
sued Crosby, with infinite self-satisfaction ; " and a young man 
on his first hlood can not break rule, particularly with a gen- 
tleman so used to the sport as Mr. Daly. Come, gentlemen, 
proceed ! proceed !" 

Daly appeared much displeased, but took his ground, without 
speaking a word, about nine paces from me. He presented his 
pistol instantly, but gave me most gallantly a full front. 

It being, as Crosby said, my first blood, I lost no time, but 
let fly without a single second of delay, and without taking 
aim : Daly staggered back two or three steps ; put his hand to 
his breast; cried, " I'm hit, sir!" and did not fire. Crosby 
gave me a slap on the back which staggered me, and a squeeze 
of the hand which nearly crushed my fingers. We got round 
him : his waistcoat was opened, and a black spot, about the 
size of a crown piece with a little blood, appeared directly on 
his breastbone. I was greatly shocked : fortunately, however, 
the ball had not penetrated ; but his brooch had been -broken, 



FKE'^iUENCY OF ELECTION DUELS. 301 

and a piece of the setting was sticking fast in the bone. 
Oroshj stamped, cursed the damp powder or underloading, and 
cahnlj pulled out the brooch : Daly said not a word ; put his 
cambric handkerchief doubled to his breast, and bowed. I 
returned the salute, extremely glad to get out of the scrape, 
and so we parted without conversation or ceremony ; save that 
when I expressed my wish to know the cause of his challenging 
me, Daly replied that he would noiv give no such explanation, 
and Jiis friend then produced his book of rules, quoting No. 8 : 
" If a party challenged accepts the challenge without asking 
the reason of it, the challenger is never bound to divulge it 
afterward." 

My friend Crosby, as I have mentioned, afterward attempted 
to go off from Dublin to England in a balloon of his own 
making,. and dropped between Dublin and Holyhead into the 
sea, biit was saved. The poor fellow, however, died far too 
early in life for the arts and sciences, and for friendship, which 
he was eminently capable of exciting. I never saw two per- 
sons in face and figure more alike than Crosby and my friend 
Daniel O'Connell : but Crosby was the taller by two inches, 
and it was not so easy to discover that he was an Irishman. 



DUELLING EXTRAORDINAEY. 

Frequpncy of Election Duel? — Lu'licroug AtFair between Frank Skelton and an Exciseman 
— Frank shoots the Exciserann and runs away — Hi^' Curious Reasons — Sir J. Bouik-i's 
Quadrille Dnel, with iivn Hits — Mr. H D. G . . . y's Reinarkable Meeting with CouTisellor 
O'.Maher — O'Maher hit — Civil Proposition of G ... y's Second — G ... y's Gallant Let- 
t*>r to the Author on his Election for ]Maiyl)orou2:h — Honorable Bai-ry Yelvprton chal- 
lenged hy Nine Officers at once — His Elucidation of the Fii-e-Eaters' Resolutions — Lord 
Kilkenny's Memorable Duels and Lawsuits — His Lordship is shot by Mr. Ball, an Attor- 
ney — Th>; Heir to his Title (the Hon. Somerset Butler) challenges Counsellor Burrowes — 
Th'> Latter hit, but his Life saved by some Gingerbread Nut- — Lord Kilkenny's Duel with 
C(iuu>ellor Byrne' — The Counsellor wounded. Counsellor Guinness e-capes a Ren- 
contre — Sketch of Counsellor MNally — His Du»l with the Author — His three Friends ; 
nllafterwarl hange;i — MNally wounded — B m-Mot of Mr. Harding — The Affair hishly 
Beneticial to M'Nally — His Character, Marriage, and Death — Ancient Mode of lighting 
Duel — The Lists described — Duel of Colonel Barrington with Squire Gilbert on Horse- 
back — Both Wounded — Gilbert's Horse killed — Chivafrous Conclusion. 

Our elections were more prolific in duels than any other 
public meetings : they very seldom originated at a horse- 
race, cockfight, hunt, or any place of amusement : folks then 



302 DUELLING EXTKAOEDINARY. 

had pleasure in view, and " sometliing else to do" tlian to 
quarrel : but at all elections, or at assizes, or, in fact, at any- 
place of business, almost every man, without any very particu- 
lar or assignable reason, immediately became a violent partisan, 
and frequently a furious enemy to somebody else ; and gentle- 
men often got themselves shot before they could tell what they 
were fighting about. 

At an election for Queen's county, between General Walsh 
and Mr. Warburton, of Garryhinch, about the year 1783, took 
place the most curious duel of any which have occurred within 
my recollection. A Mr. Frank Skelton, one of the half- 
mounted gentlemen described in the early part of this work 
— a boisterous, joking, fat, young fellow — was" prevailed on, 
much against his grain, to challenge the exciseman of the town 
for running the but-end of a horsewhip down his throat the 
night before, vfhile he lay drunk and sleeping with his mouth 
open. The exciseman insisted that snoring at a dinner-table 
was a personal offence to every gentleman in company, and 
would therefore make no apology. 

Frank, though he had been nearly^ choked, was very reluc- 
tant to fight ; he said " he was sure to die if he did, as the 
exciseman could snuff a candle with his pistol-ball ; and as he 
himself was as big as a hundred dozen of candles, what chance 
could he have V -We told him jocosely to give- the exciseman 
no time to take aim at him, by which means he might, perhaps, 
hit his adversary first, and thus survive the contest. He 
seemed somewhat encouraged and consoled by the hint, and 
most strictly did he adhere to it. 

Hundreds of the town's people went to see the fight on the 
green of Maryborough. The ground was regularly measured ; 
and the friends of each party pitched a ragged tent on the 
green, where whiskey and salt beef were consumed in abun- 
dance. Skelton having taken his ground, and at the same time 
two heavy drams from a bottle his foster-brother had brought, 
appeared quite stout till he saw the balls entering the mouths 
of the exciseman's pistols, which shone as bright as silver, and 
were nearly as long as fusils. This vision made a palpable 
alteration in Skelton's sentiments : he changed color, and 



FRANK SKELTOlSr AXD THE EXCISEMAiT. 303 

looked about him as if he wanted some assistance. However, 
their seconds, who were of the same rank and description, 
handed to each party his case of pist'ols, and half-bellowed to 
them—" Blaze away, boys !" 

Skelton now recollected his instructions, and lost no tiTne : 
he cocked botii, his pistols at once ; and as the exciseman was 
deliberately and most scientifically coming to his " dead level," 
as he called it, Skelton let fly. 

"Holloa!" said the exciseman, dropping his level, "I'm 
battered, by Jasus !" 

" The devil's cure to you !" said Skelton, instantly firing his 
second pistol. -^ 

One of the exciseman's legs then gave way, and down he 
came on his knee, exclaiming " Holloa ! holloa ! you blood- 
thirsty' villain ! do you want to take my life?" 

"Why, to be sure I do !" said Skelton. "Ha ! ha ! have I 
stiffened you, my lad V Wisely judging, however, that if he 
stayed till the exciseman recovered his legs, he might have a 
couple of shots to stand, he wheeled about, took to his heels, 
and got away as fast as possible. The crowd shouted ; but 
Skelton, like a hare when started, ran the faster for the 
shouting. 

Jemmy Moffit, his own second, followed, overtook, tripped 
up his heels, and cursing him for a disgraceful rascal, asked 
" why he ran away from the exciseman ?" 

" Ough thunther!" said Skelton, with his chastest brogue, 
*' how many holes did the villain want to have drilled into his 
carcass ? Would you have me stop to make a riddle of him. 
Jemmy ?" 

The second insisted that Skelton should return to the field, 
to be shot at. He resisted, affirming that he had done all that 
honor required. The second called him " a coicard .'" 

" By my sowl," returned he, " my dear Jemmy Moffit, may 
be so ! you may call me a coward, if you please ; but I did it 
sl\ iov the best y 

" The best ! you blackguard ?" 

" Yes," said Frank : " sure it's better to be a coicard than h\ 
corpse I and I must have been either one or V other of them." / 



304 DUELLING EXTKAORDINAET. 

However, lie was dragged up to the ground by his second, 
after agreeing to fight again, if he had another pistol given 
him. But, luckily for Frank, the last" bullet had stuck so fast 
between the bones of the exciseman's leg that he could not 
stand. The friends of the latter then proposed to strap him to 
a tree, that he might be able to shoot Skelton ; but this being 
positively objected to by Frank, the exciseman was carried 
home : his first wound was on the side of his thigh, and the 
second in his right leg ; but neither proved at all dangerous. 

The exciseman, determined on haling Frank as he called it, 
on his recovery challenged Skelton in his turn. Skelton 
accepted the challenge, but said he was tould he had a right 
to choose his own weapons. The exciseman, knowing that 
such was the law, and that Skelton was no swordsman, and 
not anticipating any new invention, acquiesced. " Then," said 
Skelton, " for my weapons, I choose v[ij Jists ; and, by the pow- 
ers, you ganger, I'll give you such a hasting that your nearest 
relations sha'n't know you." Skelton insisted on his right, and 
the exciseman not approving of this species of combat, got 
nothing by his challenge; the affair dropped, and Skelton 
triumphed. 

The only modern instance I recollect to have heard of as 
applicable to No. 25 (refer to the regulations detailed in last 
sketch), was that of old John Bourke, of Grlinsk, and Mr. Amby 
Bodkin. They fought near Glinsk, and the old family steward 
and other servants brought out the present Sir John, then a 
child, and held him upon a man's shoulder, to see papa fight. 

On that occasion, both principals and seconds engaged ; they 
stood at right angles, ten paces distant, and all began firing 
together on the signal of a pistol discharged by an umpire. 
At the first volley, the two principals were touched, though 
very slightly. The second volley told better; both the 
seconds, and Amby Bodkin, Esq., staggered out of their places: 
they were well hit, but no lives lost. It was, according to 
custom, an election squabble. 

The Galway rule No. 2 was well exemplified in a duel be- 
tween a friend of mine (the present first counsel the commis- 
sioners of Ireland), and a Counsellor O'Maher. O'Maher was 



H. D. G. AND COUNSELLOE o'mAHEE. 305 

the challenger : no ground was measured ; they fired ad lihi- 
tum. G . . . 7, never at a loss upon such occasions, took his 
ground at once, and kept it steadily : O'Maher began his 
career at a hundred paces distance, advancing obliquely and 
gradually contracting his circle round his opponent, who con- 
tinued changing his front by corresponding movements ; both 
parties now and then aiming, as feints, then taking down their 
pistols. This jpas de deux lasted more than half an hour, as I 
have been informed ; at length, when the assailant had con- 
tracted his circle to firing distance, G . . . y cried out, sud- 
denly and loudly : O'Maher obeyed the signal, and instantly 
fired : G . . . y returned the shot, and the challenger reeled 
back Tiors de combat. 

On the same occasion, Mr. O'Maher's second said to 
G . . . y's (the famous counsellor Ned Lysight), " Mr. Lysight, 
take care — your pistol is cocked!" — "Well then," said Ly- 
sight, " cock yours, and let me take a slap at you, as we are 
idle !" However, this proposition was not acceded to. 

There could not be a greater gamecock (the Irish expression) 
than G . . . y. He was not only spirited himself, but the 
cause of infusing spirit into others. It will appear, from the 
following friendly letter which I received from him during my 
contested election for Maryborough, that Lord Oastlecoote, the 
returning officer, had a tolerable chance of becoming acquainted 
with my friend's reporters (the pet-name for hair-triggers)^ 
which he was so good as to send me for the occasion. His 
lordship, however, declined the introduction. 

"Dublin, January, 29, 1800 

" My dear Jonah : I have this moment sent to the mail- 
coach office two bullet-moulds, not being certain which of them 
belongs to the reporters : suspecting, however, that you may 
not have time to melt the lead, I also send half a dozen bul- 
lets, m^erely to keep you going v/hile others are preparing. 

" I lament much that my situation and political feeling pre- 
vent me from seeing you exliihit at Maryborough. 

" Be bold, wicked, steady, andyefxr naught ! Give a line to 
yours truly, " H. D. G. 

"Jonah Barrington, Esq." 



306 DUELLmG EXTEAOEDINAET. 

My friend G . . . y did not get off so well in a little affair 
wHcli lie had in Hyde Park, in tlie night, on which occasion I 
was his guardian : a Counsellor Campbell haj)pened to be a 
better shot than my friend, and the moon had the unpleasant 
view of his discomfiture : he got what they call a crack ; how- 
ever, it did not matter much, and in a few days G . . . y was 
on his legs again. 

There could not be a better elucidation of rule No. 5, of the 
code of honor, than an anecdote of Barry Yelverton, second 
son of Lord Avonmore, baron of the exchequer. Barry was 
rather too odd a fellow to have been accounted at all times 
perfectly compos mentis. He was a barrister. In a ballroom 
on circuit, where the officers of a newly-arrived regiment had 
come to amuse themselves and set the Munster lasses agog, 
Barry, having made too many libations, let out his natural dis- 
like to the military, and most grossly insulted several of the 
officers ; abusing one, treading on the toes of another, jostling 
a third, and so forth, till he had got through the whole regi- 
ment. Respect for the women, and they not choosing to com- 
mit themselves with the black-gowns on the first day of their 
arrival, induced the insulted parties to content themselves with 
only requiring Barry's address, and his hour of being seen the 
next morning. Barry, with great satisfaction, gave each of 
them his card, but informed them that sending ^o him was un- 
necessary ; that he was Ms oicn second^ and would meet every 
man of them at eight o'clock next morning, in the ballroom ; 
concluding by desiring them to bring their swords, as that was 
always his weapon. Though this was rather a curious ren- 
dezvous, yet, the challenged having the right to choose his 
weapon, and the place being apropos, the officers all attended 
next day punctually, with the surgeon of the regiment, and a 
due proportion of small-swords, fully expecting that some of 
his brother-gownsmen would join the rencontre. On their ar- 
rival, Barry requested to know how many gentlemen had done 
him the honor of giving him the invitation, and was told their 
names, amounting to nine. " Very well, gentlemen," said Yel- 
verton ; " I am well aware I abused some of you, and gave 
others an offence equivalent to a blow — which latter, being 



EXPOUNDING THE TIPPEKAEY RESOLUTIONS. 307 

the greatest insult, we'll dispose of those cases first, and I shall 
return in a few minutes fully prepared." 

They conceived he had gone for his ^word and friends. But 
Barry soon after returned alone, and resumed thus : " Now, 
gentlemen, those to each of whom I gave an equivalent to a 
blow, will please step forward." Four of them accordingly 
did so, w^hen Barry took from under his coat a bundle of 
switches, and addressed them as follows : " Gentlemen, per- 
mit me to have the honor of handing each of you a switch (ac- 
cording to the rule No. 5, of the Tipperary resolutions), where- 
with to return the blow, if you feel any particular desire to put 
that extremity into practice. I fancy, gentlemen, that settles 
four of you ; and as to the rest, here" (handing one of his cards 
to each, with '^ Iheg you?- pardon^^ written above his name) — 
" that's agreeable to No. 1" (reading the rule). " Now I fancy 
all your cases are disposed of; and having done my duty ac- 
cording to the Tipperary resolutions, which I will never swerve 
from — if, gentlemen, you are not satisfied, I shall be on the 
bridge to-morrow morning with a case of harhing-ironsr The 
officers stared, first at him, then at each other. The honest, 
jolly countenance and drollery of Barry were quite irresistible. 
First a smile of surprise, and then a general laugh, took place, 
and the catastrophe was their asking Barry to dine with them 
at the mess, where his eccentricity and good humor delighted 
the whole regiment. The poor fellow grew quite deranged at 
last, and died, I believe, in rather unpleasant circumstances. 

The late Lord Mount Garret (afterward earl of Kilkenny) 
had-for several years a great number of lawsuits at once on his 
hands, particularly with some insolvent tenants, whose causes 
had been gratuitously taken up by Mr. Ball, an attorney, Mr. 
William Johnson, the barrister, and seven or eight others of 
the circuit. His lordship was dreadfully tormented. He was 
naturally a very clever man, and devised ^ new mode of car- 
rying on his lawsuits. He engaged a clientless attorney, 
named Egan, as his working-solicitor, at a very liberal yearly 
stipend, upon the express terms of his undertaking no other 
business, and holding his office solely in his lordship's own 
house, and under his own eye and direction. His lordship ap- 



308 DUELLING EXTRAOEDINAKT. 

plied to Mr. Fletclier (afterward judge) and myself, requesting 
an interview, upon which he informed us of his situation : that 
there were generally ten counsel pitted against him, but that 
he would have much more reliance on the advice and punctual 
attendance of two steady than of ten straggling gentlemen ; 
and that under the full conviction that one of us would always 
attend the courts when his causes were called on, and not 
leave him in the lurch as he had been left, he ha,d directed his 
attorneys to mark on our two briefs ten times the amount of 
fees paid to each on the other side : " Because," said his lord- 
ship, " if you won't surely attend, I must engage ten counsel 
as well as my opponents, and perhaps not be attended to after 
all." The singularity of the proposal set us laughing, in which 
his lordship joined. 

Fletcher and I accepted the offer, and did most punctually 
attend his numerous trials — were most liberally feed — but 
most unsuccessful in our efforts, for we never were able to gain 
a single cause or verdict for our client. 

The principle of strict justice certainly was with his lord- 
ship, but certain fbrmalities of the law were decidedly against 
him. Thus, perceiving himself likely to be foiled, he deter- 
mined to take, another course, quite out of our line, and a 
course whereby no suit is decided in modern days — namely, 
to Jight it out, muzzle to muzzle, with the attorney and all the 
counsel on the other side. 

The first procedure on this determination was a direct chal- 
lenge from his lordship to the attorney, Mr. Ball. It was ac- 
cepted, and a duel immediately followed, in which his lordship 
got the worst of it : he was wounded by the attorney at each 
shot, the first having taken place in his lordship's right arm, 
which probably saved the solicitor, as his lordship was a most 
accurate marksman. The noble challenger received the sec- 
ond bullet in his side, but the wound was not dangerous. 

My lord and the attorney having been thus disposed of, the 
Honorable Somerset Butler (his lordship's son) now took the 
field, and proceeded, according to due form, by a challenge to 
Mr. Peter Burrowes, the first of the adversaries' counsel, now 
judge-commissioner of insolvents. The invitation not being 



HON. SOMERSET BUTLEK AND PETER BURRO WES. 309 

refused, the combat took place, one cold, frosty morning, near 
Kilkenny. Somerset knew his business well, but Peter had 
had no practice whatever in that line of litigation. 

Few persons feel too warm on such occasions, and Peter 
formed no exception to the general rule. An old woman who 
sold spiced gingerbread-nuts in the street he passed through 
accosted him, extolling her nuts to the very skies, as being 
well spiced, and fit to expel the wind and to warm any gentle- 
man's stomach as well as a dram., Peter bought a penny's 
worth on the advice of his second, Dick Waddy, an attorney, 
and duly receiving the change of a sixpenny piece, ^nt the 
coppers and nuts into his icaistcoat-jpocket, and marched oft" to 
the scene of action. 

Preliminaries being soon arranged — the pistols given, ten 
steps measured, the flints hammered, and the feather-springs 
set — Somerset, a fine, dashing young fellow, full of spirit, ac- 
tivity, and animation, gave elderly Peter (who was no posture- 
master) but little time to take his fighting position : in fact, he 
had scarcely raised his pistol to a wabbling level, before Som- 
erset's ball came crack dasJi against Peter's body ! The half- 
pence rattled in his pocket ; Peter dropped flat ; Somerset fled ; 
Dick Waddy roared, "Murder!" and called out to Surgeon 
Pack. Peter's clothes were ripped up ; and Pack, secmidem 
artem, examined the wound. A black hole designated the spot 
where the lead had penetrated Peter's abdomen. The doctor 
shook his head, and pronounced but one short word, " Mortal /" 
It was, however, more expressive than a long speech. Peter 
groaned, and tried to recollect some prayer, if possible, or a 
scrap of his catechism. His friend Waddy began to think 
about the coroner ; his brother-barristers sighed heavily, and 
Peter was supposed to be fast departing this world (but, as 
they all endeavored to persuade him, Jbr a better) ; when Sur- 
geon Pack, after another exclamation, taking leave of Peter, 
and leaning his hand on the grass to assist him in rising, felt 
something hard, took it up and looked at it curiously. The 
spectators closed in the circle, to see Peter die ; the patient 
turned his expiring eyes toward Surgeon Pack, as much as to 
ask, "Is there no hope?" — when, lo ! the doctor held up to 



310 DUELLING EXTKAOKDINARY. 

tlie astonished assembly the identical hullet, which, having rat- 
tled among the heads, and harps, and gingerbread-nuts, in 
Peter's waistcoat-pocket, had flattened its own body on the 
surface of a preserving copper, and left his majesty's bust dis- 
tinctly imprinted and accurately designated, in black-and-blue 
shading, on his subject's carcass ! Peter's heart beat high ; 
he stopped his prayers ; and finding that his gracious sovereign 
and the gingerbread-nuts had saved his life, lost as little time 
as possible in rising from the sod on which he had lain ex- 
tended. A bandage was applied round his body, and in a 
short time Peter was ahle. (though of course he had no reason 
to be OYQY-willing) to begin the combat anew. 

His lordship having now, on his part, recovered from the at- 
torney's wound, considered it high time to recommence hostili- 
ties according to his original plan of the campaign : and the 
engagement immediately succeeding was between him and the 
present Counsellor John Byrne, king's counsel, and next in 
rotation of his learned adversaries. 

His lordship was much pleased with the spot upon which 
his son had chosen to hit Counsellor Peter, and resolved to 
select the same for a hit on Counsellor John. The decision 
appeared to be judicious ; and, as if the pistol itself could not 
be ignorant of its direction, and had been gratified at its own 
previous accuracy and success (for it was the same), it sent a 
bullet in the identical level, and Counsellor John Byrne's car- 
cass received a precisely similar complim^ent with Counsellor 
Peter Burrowes's — with this difference, that the former had 
bought no gingerbread-nuts, and the matter consequently ap- 
peared more serious. I asked him during his illness how he 
felt Avhen he received the crack. He answered, just as if he 
had been punched by the mainmast of a man-of-war ! Cer- 
tainly, a grand simile; but how far my friend Byrne was ena- 
bled to form the comparison, he never divulged to me. 

My lord having got through two of them, and his son a third, 
it became the duty of Captain Pierce Butler (brother to Som- 
erset) to take his turn in the lists. The barristers now began 
not much to relish this species of argument ; and a gentleman 
who followed next but one on the list owned fairly to me that 



PIERCE BUTLER AND DICKY GWINXESS. 311 

lie would rather be on our side of the question : but it was de- 
termined by our noble client, so soon as the first series of com- 
bats should be finished, to begin a new one, till he and tlie lads 
had tried the mettle or " touched the inside" of the remaining 
barristers. Mr. Dicky Guinness, a little dapper, popular, lisp- 
ing, jesting j)leader, was the next on the list ; and the Honor- 
able Pierce Butler, his intended slaughterer, was advised, for 
variety's sake, to put what is called the onus on that little gen- 
tleman, and thereby force him to become the challenger. 

Dick's friends kindly and candidly informed him that he 
could have but little chance — the Honorable Pierce being one 
of the most resolute. of a courageous family, and quite an un- 
deviating marksman ; that he had, besides, a hot, persevering, 
thirsty spirit, which a little fighting would never satisfy : and 
as Dicky was secretly informed that he would to a certainty 
be forced to a battle (it being his turn), and as his speedy dis- 
solution was nearly as certain, he was recommended to settle 
all his worldly concerns without delay. 

But it was otherwise decided. Providence took Dick's part ; 
the Honorable Pierce injudiciously put his onus (aytd rather a 
wicked one) on Dick in open court before the judge. An up- 
roar ensued, and. the Honorable Pierce hid himself under the 
table ; however, the sheriff lugged him out, and prevented that 
encounter effectually — Pierce with great difiiculty escaping 
from incarceration on giving his honor not to meddle with 
Dicky. At length, his lordship, finding that neither the laws 
of the land nor those of battle were likely to adjust the affairs 
to his satisfaction, suffered them to be terminated by the three 
duels and as many wounds. 

Leonard M'Nally (well known at both the English and Irish 
bars, and in the dramatic circles as the author of that popular 
little piece, " Robin Hood," &c.) was one of the strangest fel- 
lows in the world. His figure was ludicrous : he was very 
short, and nearly as broad as long ; his legs were of unequal 
length, and he had a face which no washing could clean : he 
w^anted one thumb, the absence of which gave rise to numer- 
ous expedients on his part; and he took great care to have no 
nails, as he regularly ate every morning the growth of the pre- 



312 DUELLING EXTKAORDINARY. 

ceding day : lie never wore a glove, lest he should appear to 
be guilty of affectation in concealing his deformity. When in 
a hurry, he generally took two thumping steps with the short 
leg, to bring up the space made by the long one ; and the 
bar, who never missed a favorable opportunity of nicknaming, 
called him accordingly " One 'pound two." He possessed, how- 
ever, a fine eye, and by no means an ugly countenance ; a 
great deal of middling intellect ; a shrill, full, good bar voice ; 
great quickness at cross-examination, with sufficient adroitness 
at defence ; and in Ireland was the very staff and standing 
dish of the criminal jurisdictions : in a word, M'K^ally was a 
good-natured, hospitable, talented, dirty fellow, and had, by 
the latter qualification, so disgusted the circviit bar, that they 
refused to receive him at their mess — a cruelty I set my face 
against, and every summer circuit endeavored to vote him into 
the mess, but always ineffectually; his neglect of his person, 
the shrillness of his voice, and his frequenting low company, 
being assigned as reasons which never could be set aside. 

M'Nally had done something in the great cause of Napper 
and Dutton, which brought him into still further disrepute with 
the bar. Anxious to regain his station by some act equalizing 
him with his brethren, he determined to offend or challenge 
some of the most respectable members of the profession, who, 
however, showed no inclination to oblige him in that way. 
He first tried his hand with Counsellor Henry Deane Glrady, 
a veteran, but who, upon this occasion, refused the combat. 
M'Nally, who was as intrepid as possible, by no means de- 
spaired ; he was so obliging as to honor me with the next 
chance, and in furtherance thereof, on very little provocation, 
gave me the retort not courteous in the court of king's bench. 

I was well aware of his object; and, not feeling very com- 
fortable under the insult, told him (taking out my watch), 
" M'Nally, you shall meet me in the park in an hour." 

The little fellow's eyes sparkled with pleasure at the invita- 
tion, and he instantly replied, " In half an liour, if you please ;" 
comparing, at the same moment, his watch with mine. "I 

hope you won't disappoint me," continued he, " as that 

Grady did !" 



"saved by the gallows. ' 313 

" ISTever fear, Mac," answered I ; " there's not a gentleman 
at the bar but will fight you to-morrow, provided you live so 
long, which I can't promise." 

We had no time to spare — so parted, to get ready. The 
first man I met was Mr. Henry Harding, a huge, wicked, fight- 
ing, King's-county attorney. I asked him to come out with 
me. To him it was fine sport. I also summoned Eice Gibbon, 
a surgeon, who, being the most ostentatious fellow imaginable, 
brought an immense bag of surgical instruments, &c., from 
Mercers' hospital. In forty-five minutes we were regularly 
posted in the middle^of the review-ground in the Phoenix park, 
and the whole scene, to any person not so seriously implicated, 
must have been irresistibly ludicrous. The sun shone brightly ; 
and Surgeon Gribbon, to lose no time in case of a hit, spread 
out all his polished instruments on the grass, glittering in the 
light on one side of me. My second having stepped nine 
paces, then stood at the other side, handed me a case of pis- 
tols, and desired me to " work away, by J s !" M'^N'ally 

stood before me very like a beer-barrel on its stilling, and by 
his side were ranged three unfortunate barristers, who were 
all soon afterward hanged and beheaded for high -treason — 
namely, John Sheers (who was his second, and had given him 
his point-hlanks), with Henry Sheers and Bagenal Harvey, 
who came as amateurs. Both of the latter, I believe, were 
amicably disposed, but a negotiation could not be admitted, 
and to it we went. M'Nally presented so coolly, that I could 
plainly see I had but little chance of being missed, so I thought 
it best to lose no time on my part. The poor fellow staggered, 
and cried out, "I am hit!" — and I found some twitch myself 
at the moment which I could not at the time account for. 
Never did I experience so miserable a feeling. He had re- 
ceived my ball directly in the curtain of his side. My doctor 
rushed at him with the zeal and activity of a dissecting-sur- 
geon, and in one moment, with a long knife, Avhich he thrust 
into his waistband, ripped up his clothes, and exposed his 
naked carcass to the bright sun. 

The ball appeared to have hit the buckle of his gallows 
(yclept suspenders), by which it had been partially impeded, 

14 



314: DUELLING EXTEAORDINART. 

and had turned round, instead of entering liis body. "While I 
was still in dread as to the result, my second, after seeing that 
he had been so far protected by the suspenders, inhumanly ex- 
claimed, " By J s, Mac ! you are the only rogue I ever 

knew that was saved hy the -gallows /" 

On returning home, I found I had not got off quite so well as 
I thought : the skirt of my coat was perforated on both sides, 
and a scratch just enough to break the skin had taken place 
on both my thighs, I did not know this while on the ground, 
but it accounts for the tioitch I spoke of. 

My opponent soon recovered ; and after the precedent of be- 
ing wounded by a king's counsel, no barrister could afterward 
decently refuse to give him satisfaction. He was, therefore, 
no longer insulted, and the poor fellow has often told me since 
that my shot was his salvation. He subsequently got Ourran 
to bring u.s together at his house, and a more zealous, friendly 
partisan I never had than M'Nally proved himself on my con- 
test for the city of Dublin. 

Leonard was a great poetaster ; and having fallen in love 
with a Miss Janson, daughter to a very rich attorney, of Bed- 
ford row, London, he wrote on her the celebrated song of '' The 
Lass of Richmond Hill" (her father had a lodge there). She 
could not withstand this, and returned his flame. This young 
lady was absolutely beautiful, but quite a slattern in her per- 
son. She likewise had a turn for versifying, and was therefore 
altogether well adapted to her lame lover, particularly as she 
could never spare time from her poetry to wash her hands — a 
circumstance in which M'lSTally was sympathetic. The father, 
however, notwithstanding all this, refused his consent ; and 
consequently, M'Nally took advantage of his dramatic knowl- 
edge, by adopting the precedent of Barnaby Brittle, and bribed 
a barber to lather old Janson's eyes as well as his chin, and 
with something rather sharper too thail Windsor soap. Slip- 
ping out of the room, while her father was getting rid of the 
lather, and the smart, this Sappho, with her limping Phaon, 
escaped, and were united in the holy bands of matrimony the 
same evening ; and she continued making and M'Nally cor- 
recting verses till it pleased God to call them away. This 



ANCIENT MODE OF DUELLINa CLASSIC GKOIJND. 315 

curious couple conducted themselves, both generally and tow- 
ard each, other, extremely well after their union. Old Janson 
partly forgave them, and made some settlement upon their 
children. 

The ancient mode of duelling in Ireland was generally on 
horseback. The combatants were to gallop past each other, 
at a distance marked out by posts, which prevented a nearer 
approach. They were at liberty to fire at any time from the 
commencement to the end of their course, but it must be at a 
hand-gallop. Their pistols were previously charged alike with 
a certain number of balls, slugs, or whatever else was most 
convenient, as agreed upon. 

There had been, from time immemorial, a spot marked out 
on level ground near the Down of Clapook, Queen's county, 
on the estate of my grand-uncle. Sir John Byrne, which I have 
often visited as classic grownd. It was beautifully situated, 
near Stradbally ; and here, according to tradition and legend- 
ary tales, the old captains and chieftains used to meet and 
decide their differences. Often did I walk it over, measuring 
its dimensions step by step. The bounds of it are still palpa- 
ble, about sixty or seventy steps long, and about thirty or fort/ 
wide. Large stones remain on the spot where, I suppose, the 
posts originally stood to divide the combatants, Avhich posts 
were about eight or nine yards asunder — being the nearest 
point from which they were to fire. The time of firing was 
voluntary, so as it occurred during their course, and, as before 
stated, in a hand-gallop. If the quarrel was not terminated in 
one course, the combatants proceeded to a second ; and if it 
was decided to go on after their pistols had been discharged, 
they then either finished with short broadswords oi:^i4|^|U^s»i«6k, 
or with small-swords on foot; but the tradition ran, that when 
they fought with small-swords, they always adjourned to the 
rock of Donamese, the ancient fortress of the O'Moors and the 
princes of Offely. This is the most beautiful of the inland 
ruins I have seen in Ireland. There, in the centre of the old 
fort, on a flat green sod, are still visible the deep indentures 
of the feet, of both principals, who have fought with small 
rapiers, and their seconds. Every modern visiter naturally 



316 DUELLINa EXTKAORDINAEY. 

stepping into tlie same marks, the indentures are consequently 
kept up ; and it is probable that they will be deeper one hun- 
dred years hence than they were a year ago. 

My grandfather, Colonel Jonah Barrington, of Cullenagh- 
more, had a great passion for hearing and telling stories as to 
old events, and particularly as to duels and battles fought in 
his own neighborhood, or by his relatives ; and as these were 
just adapted to make impression on a very young, curious 
mind, like mine, at the moment nearly a carte hlancJie (the Ara- 
bian Nights, for instance, read by a child, are never forgotten 
by him), I remember, as if they were told yesterday, many of 
his recitals and traditionary tales, particularly those he could 
himself attest; and his face bore, to the day of his death, am- 
ple proof that he had not been idle among the combatants of 
his own era. The battle I remember best, because I heard it 
oftenest and through a variety of channels, was one of my 
grandfather's, about the year 1759. He and a Mr. Gilbert had 
an irreconcilable grudge : I forget the cause, but I believe it 
was a very silly one. It increased, however, every day, and 
the relatives of both parties found it must inevitably end in a 
combat, which, were it postponed till the sons of each grew up, 
might be enlarged perhaps from an individual into a regular 
family engagement. It was therefore thought better that the 
business should be ended at once : and it was decided that 
they should tight on horseback, on the green of Maryborough ; 
^lat the ground should be one hundred yards of race, and 
eight of distance ; the weapons of each, two holster-pistols, a 
broad-bladed but not very long sword (I have often seen my 
grandfather's), with basket-handle, and a skeen, or long, broad- 
"1S!ade4 dagger : the pistols to be charged with one ball and 
swandrops. 

The entire country, for miles round, attended to see the 
combat, Avhich had been six months settled and publicly an- 
nounced, and the county trumpeter, who attended the judges 
at the assizes, was on the ground. M.j grandfather's second 
was a Mr. Lewis Moore, of Oremorgan, whom I well recollect ; 
Gilbert's was one of his own name and family — a captain of 
cavalry. 



DUEL ON HOESEBACK. 317 

All due preliminaries being arranged, tlie conntry collected ' 
and placed as at a horserace, and the ground kept free by the 
gamekeepers and huntsmen mounted, the combatants started, 
and galloped toward each other. Both fired before they 
reached the nearest spot, and missed. The second course was 
not so lucky. My grandfather received many of Gilbert's shot 
full in his face : the swandrops penetrated no deeper than his 
temple and cheek bones ; the large bullet fortunately passed 
him. The wounds not being dangerous, only enraged old 
Jonah Barrington ; and the other being equally willing to 
continue the conflict, a fierce battle, hand to hand, ensued : 
but I should think they did not close too nearly, or how could 
they have escaped wdth life % 

My grandfather got three cuts, which he used to exhibit 
with great glee ; one on the thick of the right arm, a second on 
his bridlearm, and a third on the inside of the left hand. His 
hat, which he kept to the day of his death, was also sliced in 
several places ; but both had iron scullcaps under their hats, 
which probably saved their brains from remaining upon the 
green of Maryborough. 

Gilbert had received two pokes from my grandfather on his 
thigh and his side, but neither dangerous. I fancy he had the 
best of the battle, being as strong as, and less irritable than, 
my grandfather, who, I suspect, grew, toward the last, a little 
ticklish on the subject — for he rushed headlong at Gilbert, 
and instead of striking at his person, thrust his broadsword 
into the horse's body as often as could, until the beast dropped 
with his rider underneath him : my grandfather then leap'fft'*' ' 
off his horse, threw away his sword, and putting his skeen, or 
broad dagger, to the throat of Gilbert, told him to ask his life 
or die, as he must do either one or the other in half a minute. 
Gilbert said he would ask his life only upon the terms that, 
without apology or conversation, they should shake hands 
heartily and be future friends and companions, and not leave ^ 
the youths of two old families to revenge their quarrel by 
slaughtering each other. These terms being quite agreeable 
to my grandfather, as they breathed good sense, intrepidity, 
and good heart, he acquiesced ; and from that time they were 



318 GEORGE HAKTPOLE. 

the most intimately attached and jojous friends and com- 
panions of the county they resided in. 

My grandfather afterward fought at Clapook, a Mr. Fitz- 
gerald, who was badly shot. On this occasion, old Gilbert 
was my grandfather's second ■: I remember well seeing him ; 
as I do also the late chief-justice (then sergeant) Pattison, who 
had come down to Cullenaghmore to visit my grandfather, and, 
as I afterward discovered, to cheat him. Gilbert brought me 
a great many sweet things ; and I heard that evening so many 
stories of fights at Olapook, and on the ridge of Maryborough, 
that I never forgot them ; and it is curious enough that I have 
all my life taken the greatest delight in hearing of, or reading 
about, ancient battles and chivalrous adventures. Nothing 
amuses me more to this day ; and hence perhaps it is, that I 
recollect those tales and traditions at the present moment with 
perfect distinctness and accuracy : my memory seldom fails 
me in anything, and least of all in recitals such as the fore- 
going. 



GEORGE HAETPOLE. 

Curious Fatality in the Hartpole Family — Characteristic Sketch of the Last of the Name — 
Description of Siirewl Castle — The Chapel and Cemet'^ry — Strictures on Epitaph Writing 
— Eccentricirips of Earl of Aldborough — His Lordship proposes his Si.^ter, Lady Sarah 
Stratford, as Returning "Officer for the Borough of Baltinglass — Consequent Disturbances 
— The North Briton put on his Mettle, liut outmanoeuvered — '• Lending to the Lord" — 
Successful Conspiracy to marry Hartpole to the Daughter of a Village-Innkeeper — He is 
stabbed by his Wife, and deserts Her in consequence — He forms an Attachment to Miss 
Maria Otway, whom he marries under the Plea of his previous Connection being Illegal 
— Unfortunate Nature of this Union — Separation of the Parties — Hartpole's Voyage to 
Portugal, his Return and Death — Sundry other Anecdotes of the Stratford Family. 

In the year 1791, George Hartpole, of Shrewl castle, 
Queen's county, Ireland, had just come of age. He was the 
last surviving male of that name, which belonged to a popular 
family, highly respectable, and long established in the county. 
Few private gentlemen commenced life with better promise, 
and better merited esteem and happiness. He was my relative 
by blood ; and though considerably younger, the most intimate 
and dearest friend I had. 



SINGTJLAE FATALITY — CHAEACTEEISTIC SKETCH. 319 

His father, Robert, had married a sister of the late and 
present earls of Aldborough. She was the mother of George, 
and through this connection originated my intercourse with 
that eccentric nobleman and his family. 

A singular fatality had attended the Hartpole family from 
time immemorial. The fathers seldom survived the attainment 
of the age of twenty-three years by their elder sons, which cir- 
cumstance gave rise to numerous traditionary tales of sprites 
and warnings.* 

Eobert, as usual with the gentlemen of his day, was the 
dupe of agents, and the victim of indolence and the spirit of 
hospitality. He had deposited his consort in the tomb of her 
fathers, and had continued merrily enjoying the convivialities 
of the world (principally in the night-time) till his son George 
had passed his twenty-second year ; and then punctually made 
way for the succession, leaving George inheritor of a large ter- 
ritory, a moderate income, a tattered mansion, an embarrassed 
rent-roll, and a profound ignorance (without the consciousness 
of it) of business in all departments. ^ 

George, though not at all handsome, had completely the 
mien and manners of a gentleman. His features accorded well 
with his address, bespeaking the cordiality of a friend and the 
ardor of an Irishman. His disposition was mild — his nature 
brave, generous, and sincere ; yet on some occasions he was 
obstinate 'and peevish ; on others somewhat sullen and suspi- 
cious ; but in. his friendships, George Hartpole was immutable. 

His stature was of the middle height, and his figure exhibited 
no appearcince of either personal strength or constitutional, 
vigor ; his slender form and the languid fire of his eye indi- 
'cated excitation without energy; yet his spirits were moder- 
ately good, and the most careless observer might feel convinced 
that he had sprung from no ordinary parentage — a circum- 
stance which then had due influence in Ireland, where agents, 

*The country authorities were very wise, very grave, and very grim, on 
this subject; but, after all, I suspect the most natural way of accounting for 
the fatality alluded to is, that the old gentlemen were commonly atnonii^ the 
hardest livers \i\ the country, and consequently, the gout was certain to be 
their eompaaion, and generally their executioner. 



320 GEOEGE HAUTPOLE. 

artisans, and attorneys, liad not as yet supplanted tlie ancient 
nobility and gentry of tlie country, 

Slirewl Castle, tlie hereditary residence of tlie Hartpoles, 
was in no way distinguishable from the numerous other castel- 
lated edifices now in a state of dilapidation throughout the 
whole island — ruins which invariably excite a retrospect of 
happier times, when the resident landlord, reverenced and 
beloved, and the cheerful tenant, fostered and protected, felt 
the natural advantages of their reciprocal attachment ; a reflec- 
tion which leads us to a sad comparison with modern usages, 
when the absent lord and the mercenary agent have no con- 
sideration but the rents, and their collection ; when the de- 
serted tenantry keep pace in decline with the deserted man- 
sion ; when the ragged cottager has no master' to employ, no 
guardian to protect him — pining, and sunk in the lowest state 
of want and wretchedness- — sans work, sans food, sans covering, 
sans everything — he rushes forlorn and desperate into the arms 
of destruction, which in all its various shapes stands ready to 
receive him. The reflection is miserable, but true ; such is 
Ireland since the year 1800. 

Hartpole's family residence, picturesquely seated on a ver- 
dant bank of the smooth and beautful Barrow, had, during the 
revolutions of time, entirely lost the character of a fortress : 
patched and pieced after all the numberless orders of village 
architecture, it had long resigned the dignity of a castle with- 
out acquiring the comforts of a mansion ; yet its gradual de- 
scent, from the stronghold of powerful chieftains to the rude 
dwelling of an embarrassed gentleman, could be traced even 
by a superficial observer. Its half-levelled battlements, its 
solitary and decrepit tower, and its rough and dingy walls 
(giving it the appearance of a sort of habitable buttress), com- 
bined to portray the downfall of an ancient family. 

Close bounding the site of this ambiguous heritage was situate 
the ancient burial-place of the Hartpole family and its follow- 
ers for ages. Scattered graves — some green, some russet — 
denoted the recentness or remoteness of the different inter- 
ments ; and a few broad flagstones, indented with defaced or 
illegible inscriptions, and covering the remains of the early 



SHEEWL CASTLE. 321 

masters of the domain, just uplifted tlieir mouldering sides from 
among v/eeds and briers, and tlius half disclosed tlie only ob- 
jects which conld render that cemetery interesting. 

One melancholy yew-tree, spreading wide its straggling 
branches over the tombs of its former lords and the nave of an 
ancient chapel (its own hollow trunk proclaiming that it c<)ialdi 
not long survive), seemed to await, in awful augury, the honor 
of expiring with the last scion of its hereditary chieftains. 

To me the view of this melancholy tree always communi- 
cated a low, feverish sensation, which I could not well account 
for. It is true I ever disliked to contemplate the residence of 
the dead :* but that of the Hartpole race, bounding their hall 
of revelry, seemed to me a check upon all hilarity ; and I never 
could raise my spirits in any room, or sleep soundly in any 
chamber, which overlooked that sanctuary. 

The incidents which marked the life of the last owner of 
Shrewl castle were singular and affecting, and on many points 
may tend to exhibit an instructive example. Nothing, in fact, 
is better calculated to influence the conduct of society than the 
biography of those whose career has been conspicuously marked 
by either eminent virtues or peculiar events. The instance of 
George Hartpole may serve to prove, were proof wanting, that 
matrimony, as it is the most irrevocable, so is it the most pre- 
carious step in the life of mortals ; and that sensations of pre- 
sentiment and foreboding (as I have already more than once 
maintained) are not always visionary. 

I was the most valued friend of this ill-fated young man. 
To me his whole heart was laid open ; nor was there one im- 
jportant circumstance of his life, one feeling of his mind, con- 

* I never could get over certain disagreeable sensations and awe at the in- 
terment of any person. So strongly, indeed, have I been impressed in this 
way, that I formed a resolution, which (with one exception) I have strictly 
adhered to these forty years — namely, never to attend the funeral even of 
a relative. I have now and then indulged a whim of strolling over a coun- 
try churchyard occasionally, to kill time when travelling, in other instances 
for statistical purposes; but, in general, the intelligible and serious inscrip- 
tion on the tombstones are so mingled and mixed with others too ridiculous 
even for the brain of a stonecutter to have devised, that the, rational and 
preposterous, alternately counteracting each other, made a sort of equi- 
poise ; and I generally left an ordinary churchyard pretty much in the same 
mood in whicli I entered it. 

14* 



322 GEORGE PIARTPOLE. 

cealed from me. It is now many years since lie paid his debt 
to Nature : and, by her course, I shall not much longer tarry 
to regret his departure ; but, while my pilgrimage continues, 
that regret can not be extinguished. 

George had received but a moderate education, far inade- 
quate to his rank and expectations ; and the country life of his 
careless father had afforded him too fe^y conveniences for cul- 
tivating his capacity. His near alliance, however, and inter- 
course with the Aldborough family, gave him considerable 
opportunities to counteract, in a better class of society, that 
tendency to rustic dissipation to which his situation had ex- 
posed him, and which, at first seductive, soon becomes habitual, 
and ruinous in every way to youthful morals. 

Whatever were the other eccentricities or failings of Robert, 
earl of Aldborough (the uncle of Hartpole), the hyperbolical 
ideas of importance and dignity which he had imbibed, though 
in many practical instances they rendered him ridiculous, still 
furnished him with a certain address and air of fashion which 
put rustic vulgarity out of his society, and combined with a 
portion of classic learning and modern belles-lettres, never 
failed to give him an entire ascendency over his ruder neigh- 
bors. This curious character, in short, formed a living illus- 
tration of the titlepage of a justly-popular work written by a 
friend of mine, and called " Highways and Byways" — for he 
exhibited a pretty equal proportion of ostentation and mean- 
ness.* 

The most remarkable act of his lordship's life was an experi- 
ment regarding his sister, Lady Hannah Stratford. The bor- 
ough of Baltinglass Avas in the patronage of the Stratford fam- 
ily ; and on that subject his brothers John and Benjamin never 

* Hartpole, thpugh he despised the empty arrogance of his uncle, yet saw 
that his lordship knew the world well, and profited by that knowledge. 
He therefore occasionally paid much attention to some of my lord's worldly 
lectm'es ; and had he observed the best of them, though he might possibly 
have appeared less amiable, he would doubtless have been far more fortu- 
nate. But Hartpole could not draw the due distinction between the folly 
of his uncle's ostentation and the utility of his address; disgusted Avith the 
one, he did not sufficiently practise the other; and despised the idea of act- 
ing as if he knew the world, lest he should be considered as affecting to 
know too much of it 



COUNTENANCE AND PEOTECTION. 323 

gave liim a peaceable moment : tliey ahvays opposed liim, and 
generally succeeded. He was determined, liowever, to make 
a new kind of biirgomiaster or returning-officer, whose adhe- 
rence he might religiously depend on.' He therefore took his 
sister, Lady Hannah, down to the corporation, and recommend- 
ed Iter as a fit and proper returning-officer for the horough of 
Baltinglass ! Many highly approved of her ladyship, by way 
of a change, and a double return ensued — a man acting for 
the brothers, and the lady for the, nobleman. This created a 
great battle. The honorable ladies all got into the thick of it : 
some of them were well trounced — others gave as good as they 
received. The affair made a great uproar in Dublin, and in- 
formations were moved for and obtained against some of the 
ladies. However, the brothers, as vras just, kept the borough, 
and his lordship never could make any further hand of it. 

The /zz^/z-ways of Lord Aldborough, and the Z>yways with 
which he intersected them, are well exhibited by an incident 
that occurred to him when the country was rather disturbed in 
1797. He proceeded in great state, with his carriage, outri- 
ders, &c., to visit the commanding officer of a regiment of cav- 
alry which had just arrived in that part of the country. On 
entering the room, he immediately began by informing the offi- 
cer that he was the earl of Aldborough, of Belan castle ; that 
he had the finest parks and fishponds in that neighborhood, 
and frequently did the military gentlemen the honor of invi- 
ting them to his dinners ; adding, with what he thought a dig- 
nified politeness^ " I have come from my castle of Belan, where 
I have all the conveniences and luxuries, of life, for the espe- 
cial purpose of saying, major, that I am glad to see the mili- 
tary in my county, and have made up my mind to give you, 
major, my countenance and protection." The major, who hap- 
pened to be rather a rough soldier, and of a country not famed 
for the softness of its manners, could scarcely repress his indig- 
nation at his lordship's arrogant politeness : but when the last 
sentence was pronounced, he could restrain himself no longer. 
" Countenance and protection !" repeated he, contemptuously, 
two or three times ; " as for your 2^'>'otection, mister my lord, 
Major M'Pherson is always able to protect himself; and as 



824 GEOEGE HAETPOLE. 

for your countenance, by Heaven, I would not take it for your 
earldom !" 

His lordsliip "withdrew, and tlie major related the incident 
as a singular piece of assurance. My lord, however, knew the 
world too well to let the soldier's answer stick against him. 
Next day he invited every officer of the regiment to dinner, and 
so civilly, that the major lost all credit with his brother-officers 
for his surly reply to so hospitable a nobleman ! Nay, it was 
even whispered among them at mess that the major had actu- 
ally invented the story, to show off his own wit and indepen- 
dence—and thus Lord Aldborough obtained complete revenge. 

On another occasion, his lordship got off better still. Being 
churchwarden of Baltinglass parish, he did not please the rec- 
tor, Bob Carter, as to his mode of accounting for the money in 
the poor-boxes. The peer treated Bob (who was as hard-going, 
good-hearted, devil-may-care a parson, as any in Ireland) with 
the greatest contempt. The parson, who felt no sort of per- 
sonal respect for my lord, renewed his insinuations of his lord- 
ship's false arithmetic, until the latter, highly indignant, grew 
wroth, and would give Bob no further satisfaction on the mat- 
ter ; upon Avhich the rector took the only revenge then in his 
power, by giving out a second charity-sermon, inasmuch as the 
proceeds of the first had not been duly forthcoming. The hint 
went abroad, the church was crowded, and, to the infinite amuse- 
ment of the congregation. Bob put forth as his. text — "Who- 
soever givetli to the poor, lendeth to the LordJ^ The applica- 
tion was so clear, that the laugh was irresistible. Bob followed 
up his blow all through the sermon, and " the Lord" was con- 
sidered to be completely blown ; but, skilfully enough, he con- 
trived to give the matter a turn that disconcerted even Bob 
himself. After the sermon was concluded, his lordship stood up, 
publicly thanked Bob for his most excellent text and charity- 
sermon, and declared that he had no doubt the lord-lieutenant 
or the bishop would very soon promote him, according to his 
extraordinary merits, which he was ready to vouch in common 
with the rest of the parishioners ; and finally begged of him to 
have the sermon printed ! 

Hartpole's fortune on the death of his father was not large ; 



TICTIMS OF SnSFORTUNE. 325 

but its increase would be great and certain, and this rendered 
his adoption of any money-making profession or employment 
unnecessary. He accordingly, on the other hand, pnrchased 
a commission in the army, and commeticed his entree into a 
military life and general society with ^11 the advantages of 
birth, property, manners, and character. 

A cursory observation of the world must convince us of one 
painful and explicable truth : that there are some men (and 
freq[uently the best) who, even from their earliest youth, appear 
born to be the victims of undeviating misfortune ; whom Provi- 
dence seems to have gifted with free agency only to lead them 
to unhappiness and ruin. Ever disappointed in his most ar- 
dent hopes — frustrated in his dearest objects — his best inten- 
tions overthrown — his purest motives calumniated and abused 
— no rank or station suffices to shelter such an unfortunate : 
ennui creeps upon his hopeless mind, communicates a listless 
languor to a sinking constitution, and at length he almost joy- 
fully surrenders an existence which he finds burdensome even 
perhaps at its outset.* 

* I can not better illustrate the state of a person so chased by misery, 
than by quoting a few unpublished lines, the composition of a very young 
lady, with whom, and with whose amiable family, I have the pleasure of 
being intimate. 

I am aware that I do her great injustice by quoting these particular verses, 
some of the most inferior of her writings; but they seem so much to the 
point, that I venture to risk her displeasure. She is not, indeed, irritable; 
and I promise to atone for my error by a few further quotations from her 
superior compositions : — 



■'I never sought a day's repose. 

But some sharp thorn soon pierced my breast 
I never watched the evening's close. 

And hoped a heaven of rest, 
But soon a darkling cloud would come 

Athwart the prospect bright. 
And, pale as twilight on a tomb, 

My hopes grew dim in night ! 

n. 

"Oft have I marked the heavenly moou 
Wandering her pathless way 
Along the midnight's purple noon, 
More fair, more loved than day ; 



326 GEOEGE IIARTPOLE. 

Such nearly was the lot of the last of the Hartpoles. He 
had scarcely commenced a flattering entrance into public life, 
when one false and fatal step, to which he was led in the first 
place by a dreadful accident, and subsequently by his own 
benevolent disposition, worked on by the chicanery of others, 
laid the foundation of all his future miseries. 

While quartered with his regiment at Galway, in Ireland, 
his gun, on a shooting-party, burst in his hand, which was so 
shattered, that it was long before his surgeon could decide that 
amputation might be dispensed with. 

During the protracted period of his indisposition, he was con- 
fined to his chamber at a small inn, such as Ireland then ex- 
hibited, and still exhibits, in provincial towns. The host, 
whose name was Sleven, had two daughters, both of whom as- 
sisted in the business. The elder, Honor, had long been cele- 
brated as a vulgar humorist, and the cleverest of all her con- 
temporaries; and the bar, on circuits, frequented her father's 
house purposely to be amused by her witticisms. Her coarse 
person was well calculated to protect her moral conduct ; but 
she jested and took her glass with reasonable inode^-ation. Be- 
sides entertaining the bar, she occasionally amused the judges 
also ; and Lord Yelverton, the chief baron (who admired wit in 
anybody), was Honor's greatest partisan. 

But soon she flung her shadowy wreath 

O'er dark eternity, 
As a faint smile on the cheek of death 

'Twixt hope and agony ! 

in. 

"Even so the mirth of man is madness — 

His joy as a sepulchral light, 

Which shows his solitude and sadness, 

But chaseth not the night. 

* * * ,* * * 

IV. 

" Oft on the rainbow's bloom I've gazed, 

Arched as a gate of heaven, 
Till gushing showers its portals razed, 

And bathed the brow of even : 
'Tis thus young hopes illume the sky 

Of life's dark atmosphere ; 
Yet, like the rainbow's splendid dye, 

They swiftly disappear !" 



MAKT SLEVEN, THE INNKEEPEr's DAIJGHTEE. 327 

Sucli females ever appeared to me nnnatiiral and disgusting. 
A humorous and vulgar Amazon, who forgets her own sex, 
scarcelj can expect that ours will recollect it. 

Mary, the younger sister, was of a different appearance and 
character. She was as mild and unassuming as, from her low 
occupation and habits of life, could be expected : though des- 
titute of any kind of talent, yet she appeared as if somewhat 
better born than Honor, and her attention to her guests was at 
the same time assiduous and reserved ; which conduct, con- 
trasted with the masculine effrontery of the other, gave her, in 
my mind, a great superiority. 

- It must have been remarked by every person who has ob- 
served the habits and manners of provincial towns, that the 
distinctions of society are frequently suspended by the neces- 
sary familiarities of a contracted circle, and that inferior 
females frequently excite (especially among the youthful mili- 
tary, when such are to be found), sensations of tenderness 
which in a metropolis would never have been thought of — at 
least, in the same point of view. And here the evil genius of 
Hartpole first commenced her incantations for his ruin. 

Throughout G-eorge's painful and harassing confinement, the 
more than assiduous care of Mary Sleven could not escape the 
observation of the too sensitive convalescent. Hartpole has 
often described to me the rise and progress of the giddy, ro- 
mantic feeling which then seized upon him ; how he used to 
catch her moistened eye watching his interrupted slumbers, or 
the progress of his recovery ; and when she was conscious of 
being perceived, how the mantling blush would betray a degreey 
of interest far beyond that of an ordinary attendant. / 

Mary was ratlier well looking ; though there was little to 
captivate, there was nothing about her to excite his distaste : 
he was not permitted to have society ; and thus, being left near- 
ly alone with this young female during many weeks of pain 
and solitude, and accustomed to the solicitude of a woman (so 
exquisite to a man in every state of suffering), Hartpole discov- 
ered in the sequel, that a feeling of gratitude of the highest 
order had sunk deeper than he wished within his bosom. 

He could not but perceive, indeed, that the girl actually 



328 GEORGE HAETPOLE. 

loved liim, and his vanity of course was alive to the disclosure ; 
but his honorable principles prevented him from taking any 
advantage of that weakness, which she could not conceal, and 
whereto he could not be blind. It was in truth a dangerous 
situation for both. There .were, as I have said, no external 
objects to divert George's mind from this novel sensation; 
there was no one to point out its folly or interrupt its progress. 
Her partiality flattered him in his seclusion, and led his 
thoughts gradually and imperceptibly into a channel inconsis- 
tent with the welfare of himself, the honor of his family, and 
the becoming pride of a gentleman. It was, after all, a sort 
of nondescript passion ; it certainly was not love. 

Meanwhile the keen masculine understanding of Honor soon 
perceived the game which it would be wise in her to play, 
and conceived a project whereby to wind up Hartpole's feel- 
ings to the pitch she wanted, and insensibly to lead his grati- 
tude to love, and his love to matrimony. This was Honor's 
aim, but she overrated her own penetration, and deceived her- 
self as to Hartpole's character : she overacted her part, and 
consequently weakened its effect. 

At length, awakened from his vision of romantic gratitude, 
and beginning to open his eyes to the views of the two women, 
my friend felt ashamed of his facility, and mustered up suffi- 
cient resolution to rescue himself from the toils they were 
spreading for his capture. He had never made any species of 
proposal to Mary, and she could not, with just or honest hope, 
look to marriage with a person so greatly her superior. On 
his perfect recovery, he determined by going over to England, 
to avoid all their machinations : and he also determined that 
his departure should be abrupt. 

The keen and rapid eye of the designing Honor, however, 
soon discovered the secret of his thoughts ; and guessing the 
extent of his resolution, she artfully impressed upon him (under 
the affectation of concealing it) the entire attachment of her 
pining sister, but at the same time communicated Mary's reso- 
lution to be seen by him no more — since it would be useless 
farther to distract her devoted heart by cultivating society 
from which she must so soon be separated for ever. 



FEMALE MANCEUVEING. 329 

Here Honor was again mistaken : no melting looks, no soft- 
ening blandishments, now intervened to oppose George's pride 
or stagger liis resolution. He had only to straggle with him- 
self; and after a daj and night of calm reflection, he fully 
conquered the dangers of his high-flown gratitude, and de- 
parted at daybreak from the inn without even desiring to see 
the lovelorn and secluded Mary. 

The sisters were thus totally disappointed. He had paid 
munificently for the trouble he had given them, written a let- 
ter of grateful thanks to Mary, left her a present, and set off to 
Dublin to take immediate shipping for England. 

Hartpole now congratulated himself on his escape from the 
sarcasms of the world, the scorn of his family, and his own 
self-condemnation. He had acted with honor ; he had done 
nothing wrong ; and he had once more secured that rank in 
society which he had been in danger of relinquishing. In 
Dublin he stojDped at the Marine hotel, whence the packet was 
to sail at midnight, and considered himself as on the road to 
Stratford place, London, which his uncle Lord Aldborough, 
had built, and where his lordship then resided. 

The time of embarkation had nearly arrived when a loud 
shriek issued from an adjoining chamber to his, at the hotel. 
Ever alive to any adventure, Hartpole rushed into the room, 
and beheld — Mary Sleven ! She was, or affected to be, faint- 
ing, and was supported by the artful Honor, who hung over 
her, apparently regardless of all other objects, and bemoaning, 
in low accents, the miserable fate of her only sister. 

Bewildered by both the nature and suddenness of his ren- 
contre, Hartpole told me that for a moment he nearly lost his 
sight — nay, almost his reason ; but he soon saw through the 
scheme, and mustered up sufficient courage to withdraw with- 
out explanation. He had, in fact, advanced to the door, and 
was on the outside step, the boat being ready to receive him, 
when a second and more violent shriek was heard from the 
room he had just quitted, accompanied by exclamations of 
''She's gone! she's gone!" Hartpole's presence of mind en- 
tirely forsook him ; he retraced his steps, and found Mary 
lying, as it would seem, quite senseless, in the arms of Honor : 



330 GEOEGE HAETPOLE. 

his heart relented ; liis evil genius profited by tlie advantage ; 
and he assisted to restore her. Gradually Mary's eyes opened ; 
she regarded George wildly but intently, and having caught 
his eye, closed hers again — a languid, and, as it were an in- 
voluntary pressure of his hand, conveying to him her sensations. 
He spoke kindly to her ; she started at the sound, and renewed, 
the ^pressure with increased force. As she slowly and gradually 
revived, the scene became more interesting. A medical man 
being at hand, he ordered her restorative cordials ; Madeira 
only could at the-moment be procured : she put the glass to 
her mouth, sipped, looked tenderly at Hartpole, and offered it 
him; her lips had touched it — he sipped also — the patient 
smiled : the doctor took a glass ; Hartpole pledged him ; glass 
followed glass, until George was bewildered f The artful 
Honor soon substituted another bottle ; it was Hartpole's first 
wine after his accident, and quickly mounted to his brain. 

Thus did an hour flit away, and meanwhile, the packet had 
sailed. Another person affected also to have lost his passage 
while occupied about the patient, and this turned out to be a 
catholic priest. Some refreshment was ordered : the doctor 
and the priest were pressed to stay ; the Madeira was replen- 
ished : the moments fled ! The young man's brain was in- 
flamed; and -it is only necessary to add, that the morning's sun 
rose, not on the happy George, but on the happy Mary, the 
wedded wife of Hartpole. 

I will not attempt to describe the husband's feelings when 
morning brought reflection. Every passion met its foe within 
his bosom : every resolve was overwhelmed by an adverse one ; 
his sensitive mind became the field of contest for tumultuous 
emotions ; until, worn out by its own conflicts, it sank into lan- 
guor and dejection. He had lost himself! he therefore yielded 
to his fate, abandoned all idea of farther resistance, and was 
led back in chains by the triamphant sisters. 

His family and connections, however, never would receive 
her ; and George for awhile, sunk and disgraced, without 
losing all his attachment for the girl, had lost all his tranquil- 
lity. After two years' struggle, however, between his feelings 
for her and his aspirations after a more honorable station in 



FEMALE FURY A SEPARATION. 331 

society, tlie conspiracy whicli had effected his rain, being by 
chance discovered, arose before his eyes like a spectre, anel, as- 
if through a prism the deception appeared in the clearest colors. 

The conflict now became still more keen within his breast ; 
but, at length his pride and resolution prevailed over his sen- 
sibility, and he determined (after providing amply for her) to 
take advantage of that statute which declares null and void 
all marriages solemnized by a popish priest. He made this 
determination, but unfortunately, he lingered as to its execu- 
tion. Her influence meanwhile was not extinguished ; and 
she succeeded in inducing him to procrastinate from time to 
time the fatal resolve. She could not, it is true, deny that he 
had been inveigled, and had made up her own mind, should he 
stand firm, to accept a liberal provision, and submit to a legal 
sentence, which indeed could not be resisted. 

As the propriety of Mary's moral conduct had never been 

called in question, she might, after all, be able to obtain a 

match more adapted to her station and to everything except 

her ambition : but the coarse and vulo-ar Honor miscalculated 

. *. 
all. She irritated and wound up Mary almost to madness ; 

and in this state, her characteristic mildness forsook her, she 

became jealous of all other women, and hesitated not daily to 

lavish gross and violent abuse on the passive and wretched 

Hartpole. 

One morning, in Dublin, where they were residing, he came 
to my house in a state of trembling perturbation. He showed 
me a wound on his hand, and another slight one from a knife's 
point indented on his breast bone. Mary, he said, had, in a 
paroxysm of rage, attempted to stab him while sitting at break- 
fast ; he had, with difficulty, wrested the knife from her grasp, 
and left the house never to return to it. He could in fact, no 
longer feel safe in her society, and therefore, arranging all his 
necessary concerns, he repaired to Edinburgh, where his regi- 
ment was quartered. 

The suit for a decree of nullity was commenced, but no ef- 
fective proceedings were ever taken, nor any sentence in the 
cause pronounced, owing to events still more unfortunate to 
poor Hartpole. 



332 GEOKGE HARTPOLE. 

Prior to this fatal act of George's, I had never observed an 
attadhment on his part toward any- female, save a very tempo- 
rary one to a young lady in his neighborhood, whom few men 
could see without strong feelings of admiration ; the second 
daughter of Mr. Yates, of Moou, a gentleman of the old school, 
almost antediluvian in his appearance, and of good fortune, in 
County Kildare. 

Miss Yates's beauty amounted almost to perfection. It was 
of that nature with which poets, painters, and novelists, have 
attempted to invest the most favorite of their heroines. It was 
neither Grecian nor Roman in its symmetry, yet she might have 
sat for a Madonna, or have been the model for a Venus. But my 
coloring would be partial, were I not to admit that shades of 
those frailties and passions, from which the female mind is so 
seldom exempt, not unfrequently betrayed their rapid transits 
over a countenance more indebted for its expression to sensi- 
bility than to intellect, and upon which caution seldom im- 
pressed one moment's control. Still, all her errors appeared 
amiable : her glance was electric, and a smile never failed to 
complete her conquest. Nature seemed to have created her 
solely to display the blandishments of affection, and her whole 
frame appeared as if susceptible of being dissolved in love. In 
a word, at twenty, Myrtle Yates was w^holly irresistible, and 
not a youth of her country, who had a heart, could boast of its 
insensibility to her charms. Perhaps in truth she owed to the 
bewildering number of those admirers, the good fortune, if such 
it was, of not devoting herself to any. 

Hartpole's attachment to Myrtle Yates was neither deep nor 
lasting. 'He considered her too attractive, perhaps too yield- 
ing ; and had he always adhered to the same principle of 
judgment, it is possible he might have yet existed. 

On his return from Scotland, he immediately repaired to 
Clifton, to get rid, if he might, of a severe cold, which could 
no longer be neglected, and required medical advice and a 
balmy air. Here fate threw in the way of this ill-fated youth 
another lure for this destruction, but such a cme as might have 
entrapped even the most cautious and prudent. Love, in its 
genuine and national shape, now assailed the breast of the 



A NEW ATTACKMENT. 333 

ever-sensitive Hartpole, and an attachment grew np fatal to 
his happiness, and, I think I may add, eventually to his life. 

At Clifton, my friend made the acquaintance of a family, in 
one of whose members were combined all the attractive quali- 
ties of youth, loveliness, and amiability, while their possessor 
at the same time moved in a sphere calculated to gratify the 
requisitions of a decent pride. Those who saw and knew the 
object of George's present attachment could feel no surprise at 
the existence of his passion. 

The unfortunate young man, however, sorely felt that his 
situation under these new circumstances was even more dread- 
ful than in the former connection. Loving one woman to ad- 
oration, and as yet the acknowledged husband of another, it is 
not easy to conceive any state more distracting to a man of 
honor. His agitated mind had now no suspension of its misery, 
save when lulled into a temporary trance by the very lassitude 
induced by its own unhappiness. 

He wrote to me, expressing the full extent of his feelings — 
that is, as fully as pen could convey them. But imperfect in- 
deed must be all words Avhich attempt to describe intensity of 
feeling. It was from blots and scratches, and here and there 
the dried-up stain of a tear, rather than from words, that I 
gathered the excess of his mental agony. He required of my 
friendship to advise him — a task, to the execution of which I 
was utterly incompetent. All I could properly advise him to, 
was what I knew he would not comply with ; namely, to come 
over to Ireland, and endeavor to conquer the influence of his 
passion, or at least to take no decisive step in divulging it till 
the law had pronounced its sentence on his existing connec- 
tion. 

Hartpole had strong feelings of honor as to this latter. For 
a long time he could scarce reconcile himself to the. idea of pub- 
licly annulling what he had publicly avowed ; and it was only 
by urging on his consideration the fact, that the ceremony by 
a popish priest in no case legally constituted a marriage, that 
he was prevailed on to seek for a public decree of nullity. 
Such decree was not indeed necessary ; but to have it upon 
record was judged advisable. Though the incipient proceed- 



234 GEORGE HAETPOLE. 

ings had been taken by his proctol", they were not completed, 
and Mary Sleven's marriage never was formally declared a 
nullity by the sentence of the ecclesiastical conrt, nor was she 
ever technically separated from the deluded Hartpole. 

Under all these circumstances, I was totally bewildered 
as to what ought to be my friend's future conduct, when I was 
one morning greatly surprised by the sudden appearance of 
Hartpole at my breakfast-table, obviously in better health : he 
looked very superior to what I had expected ; his eye spar- 
kled, and there was an air of satisfaction diffused both over 
his features and address which convinced me that some deci- 
sive step had been taken by him. He lost no time in telling 
me that he had actually proposed for Miss Otway to her father 
and mother ; that she herself had consented ; that Mr. and Mrs. 
Otway had come over, to have his fortune investigated, and 
wished to see me with as little delay as convenient ; and con- 
cluded by saying that he was most anxious to introduce me to 
the source of all his terrestrial happiness. 

I could not bu.t start on hearing all this, and declined enter- 
ing at all in the business with Mr. Otway till George had given 
me a written license to communicate with him as I pleased. 
He acceded to all I desired, and the next morning I waited 
on that gentleman. 

I never felt more embarrassed in my life than at this inter- 
view. I had in the interim made myself master of Mr. Otway's 
character, and the knowledge by no means contributed to ease 
my scruples or diminish my embarrassment. HoAvever, to my 
astonishment, a very short time disposed of both, and in a way 
which I had conceived impossible. 

I found Colonel Cooke Otway, a strong-minded, steady,"^ 
peremptory, gentlemanly man, obviously with more head than 
heart, and with sufficient good sense to apjpear good-natured; 
in short, one of those well-trained persons who affect to be quite y 
off-handed, yet on closer remark, are obviously in reserve. 

He introduced me to Mrs. Otway, whose character required 
no research. It was ordinary, but amiable : she had evidently 
great kindness of heart, and her conduct was uniformly re- 
ported to be such as left nothing to amend either as wife Or 



SKETCH OF MAEIA OTWAT. 335 

motlier : slie appeared to be in declining liealtli, T\liile her 
daughter, in the full bloom of j^outh and first blush of ripening 
beauty, presented a striking contrast. 

I also read, as far as its hitherto slight development would 
admit, the character of Maria Otway : I could perceive neither 
the languor of love nor the restlessness of suspense at all pre- 
dominant in her feelings. Perfect ease and entire resignation 
appeared to sit cheerfully on her brow : she seemed to consid- 
er the wish of her parents as the rule of her destiny ; and it 
was clearly percepotible that Hartpole had the greater propor- 
tion of the love at his pwn disposal. 

Maria united in her appearance, her manners, and her obvi- 
ous disposition, most of those amiable and engaging traits 
which the age of eighteen so frequently develop in a female. 
Her figure, in height rather below the middle stature, had just 
arrived in that proportionate fullness which forms the just me- 
dium between the round and slender, and Avithout the defects 
of either gives the advantages of both. Her limbs, cast in the 
mould of perfect symmetry, were moved with that ease and 
moderate activity which constitute the natural grace of feuaale 
action. Her features small, and not strictly justifying the 
epithet beautiful, yet formed in their assemblage a blooming 
and expressive index of the young heart that ruled them ; and 
the disadvantage of a less prominent profile than should be, 
was almost disregarded on account of the brilliant delicacy of 
her complexion. Her blue eyes were untutored ; but her smile 
was intoxicating, and my friend was bound in the trammels of 
female witchery. 

^ In my own judgment, Maria Otway was certainly at that 
time a very interesting young female : still her beauty, obvi- 
ously aided by youth, health, and thoughtless happiness, was 
not of that animated and vigorous cast on which we so often 
see neither time, care, nor age make quick impression : it was, 
on the other hand, that soft and delicate loveliness to which 
years and family are such inveterate and sometimes rapid 
enemies. 

Over such a man as Hartpole, the victory of Miss Otway's 
beauty was complete, and the result of that unfortunate pas- 



336 GEOEGE HAETPOLE. 

sion convinces me that a man (unless his judgment be superior 
to his sensibility) can not commit an act of greater folly than 
to encourage an attachment to any woman whom he thinks 
everybody else must admire as well as himself. George at 
first was inclined to resist his passion, but he did not jiy 
from the cause of it, and he therefore fell a victim to romantic 
love as he had before done to romantic gratitude. 

Mr. Otway at once opened the business, and told me Hart- 
pole had referred him to me for a statement of his estates and 
financial situation. On this point I had come fully prepared. 
Hartpole's circumstances exceeded rather than fell below Mr. 
Otway's expectation. 

" I am quite satisfied, my dear sir," said he to me, with a 
significant nod ; " you know that in Ireland we always make a 
small allowance for a Stratford connection." 

I now found my embarrassment recommence, but determined, 
at every risk, to free myself from all future responsibility or 
reproach : I therefore informed Col. Otway explicitly of Hart- 
pole's marriage, and that no sentence had as yet been pro- 
nounced to declare that marriage a nullity, though in point of 
law it was so. 

Having heard me throughout with the greatest complacency, 
he took me by the hand : — " My dear sir," said he with a 
smile which at first surprised me, " I am happy to tell you that 
I was fully apprized, before I came to Ireland, of every cir- 
cumstance you have related to me as to that woman, and had 
taken the opinions of several eminent practitioners on the 
point, each of whom gave, without any hesitation, exactly the 
same opinion you have done : my mind was, therefore, easy 
and made up on that subject before I left England, and I do 
not consider the circumstance any impediment to the present 
negotiation." 

It is not easy to describe the relief thus afi'orded me ; though, 
at the same time, I must own I was somewhat astonished at 
this seeming nonchalance. We parted in excellent humor with 
each other. 

The negotiation went on : Miss Sleven was no more re- 
garded ; and after a deal of discussion, but no difference of 



MAEEIAGE PKELIJSILN'AKIES. 337 

opinion, all tlie terms were agreed upon, and the settlements 
prepared, for a marriage, in all its results as unfortunate for 
the young people, and as culpahle in the old, as any- that ever 
came within my recollection. 

A circumstance of singular and not very auspicious nature oc- 
curred on the first step toward the completion of that ill-starred 
alliance. It was necessary to procure a license from the pre- 
rogative court for the solemnization of the marriage in the city 
of Dublin, and Hartpole's uncle, the Honorable Benjamin 
O'Neil Stratford (now earl of Aldborough) attend with George 
upon Doctor Duigenan, then judge of the prerogative, for that 
purpose. 

The doctor (who when irritated was the_ most outrageous 
judge that ever presided in a civil law court) was on the 
bench officiating, upon their arrival. Benjamin conceived that 
his rank- and intimacy with the doctor would have procured 
him at least common civility, but in this he was egregiously 
mistaken. 

Benjamin O'ISJ'eil Stratford, who attended his nephew on that 
dangerous expedition, was endowed with several good-natured 
qualities, but, as folks said rather inclined to the pleasures of 
litigation. In every family which is not very popular, there is 
always one, of whom people in general say, " Oh ! he is the 
hest of them :^^ and this was Benjamin's reputation in the Strat- 
ford family.* 

* The noble earl had then also the appellation of "Blind Ben," which had 
been conferred on him by the witty Lady Aldborough, and which ought not 
to have been by any means considered derogatory, inasmuch as his name is 
certainly Benjamin, and one of his eyes was actually out ; and as the abrupt 
mode of its quitting his lordship's head was rather humorous, it may be 
amusing to mention it. 

He had once, as he thought, the honor of killing a crane. Benjamin's 
evil genius, however, maliciously scattered the shot, and the crane had only 
been what they call in Ireland kilt ; but feeling pretty sure that her death 
was determined on, she resolved to die heroically, and not imrevenged. She 
fell, and lying motionless, seduced her assassin to come and wring her head 
off, according to the usual rules and practices of humanity. The honorable 
sportsman approached triumphantly, and stooping to seize the spolia opima^ 
Madame Crane, having as good eyes of her own as the one that took aim at 
her, in return for his compliment, darted her long bill plump into the head 
of the honorable Benjamin O'lS'eil Stratford, entering through the very same 
window which he had closed the shutters of, to take his aim. She, in fact, 

15 



338 GEOKGE HAKTPOLE. 

On tlieir arrival in the presence of the doctor, who pretended 
never to know anybody in court, he asked, " who those people 
were," and on being informed, proceeded to inquire what 
business brought them there. 

The honorable Benjamin answered that, "he wanted a mar- 
riage license for his nephew, George Hartpole, of Shrewl 
castle, Esq,, and Miss Maria Otway, of Castle Otway, County 
Tipperary." 

He had scarcely pronounced the words, when the doctor, 
rising with the utmost vehemence, roared out, " George Hart- 
polo ! George Hartpole ! is that the rascal who has another 
wife living V' 

George, struck motionless, shrank within himself; but Ben- 
jamin, not being so easily frightened, said something equally 
warm, whereupon the doctor, without farther ceremony, rushed 
at him, seized him by the collar, and cried, " Do you want me 
to countenance bigamy, you villains]" at the same time roar- 
ing to his crier and servants to "turn the fellows out!" which 
order, if not literally, was virtually performed, and the peti- 
tioners for a license congratulated themselves upon their provi- 
dential escape from so outrageous a judge of prerogative. 

The fact was, the suit of nullity had been actually com- 
menced in the court, but not having been proceeded on, the 
judge only knew Hartpole as a married man upon record, and 
it certainly could not appear very correct of the honorable 
Benjamin to apply to the same judge who was to try the 
validity of the first marriage, to grant his license for the solem- 
nization of a second while the first remained undecided. On 
Hartpole's mind the circumstance made an indelible impres- 

turned the honorable gentleman's eye clean oiit of its natural residence; 
and being thus fully gratified by extinguishing th^^light in one of her 
enemy's lanterns, she resigned her body to be plucked", stuffed, and roasted, 
in the "usual manner, as was performed accordingly. Thus, though her 
slayer was writhing in agony, his fajnily was fully revenged hj feasting oa 
his tormentor. Daily consultations were held to ascertain whether her long 
rapier had not actually penetrated the brain of the honorable Beujaniin. 
One of the tenants being heard to say, in a most untenant-like manner, that 
it might in such case be all for the best, was asked his reason for so unduti- 
ful an expression ; and replied, that if she had just pricked his honor's 
brain, may be it might have let out the humors therein, which would have 
done no harm either to his honor or to Baltinglass. 



MAEKIED TO MARIA OTWAT. 339 

sion, and he never afterward took any farther proceedings in , 
tlie cause then instituted. 

Hartpole returned to me and recounted the adventure, 
affecting to treat it as a jest against' his uncle. But it was a 
vain disguise ; although by struggling sharply with his feelings, 
he in some degree overcame them. 

But what was now to he done, since no license could be 
obtained in Dublin 1 A general consultation was held ; Mr. 
Otway (still singularly to me) appeared to regard the circum- 
stance as a mere bagatelle. I thought Jar otherwise ; and it 
was so deeply engraven on Hartpole's mind that he mentioned 
it to me not three days previously to his dissolution, as having 
foreboded all his subsequent misfortunes. 

It was at length agreed upon that he should be married in 
the diocess of Kildare, by a license from the bishop's surrogate 
there. ■ This was in effect accomplished. I was not present at 
the ceremony ; after which, the parties pursued their journey 
to Castle Otway, where, in the midst of everything that was 
desirable on earth, Hartpole commenced the trial of his new 
connection. 

Spite of these apparent advantages, however, my friend soon 
began either to find or conjure up new and dangerous sources 
of uneasiness. He continued some months at Castle Otway, 
listless and devoured by ennui, he pined for a change of scene, 
anfl longed to return to his hereditary domain. His health, 
too, steadily, although slowly declined ,• yet he took no medi- 
cal advice ; the remote symptoms of consumption began to 
exhibit themselves, and the effects of care upon a constitution 
naturally irritable favored their development. But, amidst 
all this, he fancied for a while that he possessed everything he 
could wish for ; his wife daily improved in her person, her 
manners were delightful, her conduct unexceptionable. 

Maria was adored by her parents, but adored to a degree 
that tended eventually to create her misery : the thought of 
separating from them was to her almost- unbearable ; she durst 
scarcely look at such an event with firmness. Her reluctance 
could not be concealed from the sharp eye of her uneasy hus- 
band. Every mark of affection lavished by her on her parents, 



34:0 GEORGE HAETPOLE. 

lie considered as if filched from him. He thought her heart 
should have no room for any attachments but to himself, whereas 
it had been wholly preoccupied by filial tenderness, that true 
passion of nature. In a word, she had never loved Hartpole, 
for whom she felt no other than a neutral species of attach- 
ment. Neither her mind nor her person had arrived at their 
full maturity, when she was called upon to love ; and under 
such circumstances, she really evinced more affection for her 
husband than I supposed she would do, but far less than he 
expected. 

At length it was agreed that they should come, on a visit, to 
my house in Dublin for some time, and that her mother should 
afterward stay with her at Shrewl castle till Maria was grad- 
ually reconciled to the dreaded change, and to- final residence 
with a man whom I believed she early discovered was not 
exactly calculated to make her happy. The story of Mary 
Sleven, I believe, she had not heard ; if she had, I am pretty 
sure she never would have left the protection of her father. 

When Hartpole arrived at my house, I soon perceived that 
my gloomy auguries had been too well grounded. I found his 
mind bewildered ; he received no enjoyment from reading ; his 
health did not permit strong exercise ; he took no pleasure in 
new and strange society, but on the contrary, pined for his own 
home, his free associates, his steward, his tenants, his colliers, 
and above all for a passive, fond companion, who should have 
no wish but her husband's. 

Now, none of these things were to Maria's taste, and she 
yielded to the inroads of discontent, as I think, unreasonably : 
still, this feeling never showed itself with offensive prominence. 
She gave way to every desire expressed by her husband, but 
her acquiescence seemed to me like that of a victim. I have 
often noticed that, even while she intimated her obedience, 
her averted eye betrayed a rebel tear, and she only aAvaited 
the moment when it might gush out with safety, and relieve 
her. 

I perceived that, unless some step was taken to occupy 
George's mind, a residence at Shrewl castle would surely pro- 
claim to the world both his folly and his ruin. T therefore 



APPOINTED HIGH-SHERIFF JEALOUSY. 341 

applied to Mr. Pelham, then secretary in Ireland, to procure 
Hartpole promotion to tlie office of liigli-sheriff for Queen's 
county for tlie ensuing year, 1794. My application was imme- 
diately conceded. I also took out for liim a commission of the 
peace. Meantime liis old castle was in part newly furnished, 
and I was happy to see that he felt a sort of gratification in 
the appointment of sheriff; and though in a state of health 
badly calculated to execute the duties of such an office, the 
occupation of his mind would, I hoped, make ample amends 
for his necessary personal exertions. If that year had passed 
favorably, it was my intention to have recommended a tour to 
some foreign country, where change of climate and of scene 
might tend to restore my friend's health, to amuse his mind, 
and perhaps to make a desirable alteration in the feelings both 
of himself and his wife : but Heaven decreed otherwise. 

While on their visit at my house, I perceived, in Hartpole's 
disposition, among other traits which so close a communion 
could scarcely fail to develop, one which I had never before 
suspected in him — and calculated to prove the certain and 
permanent source of unhappiness. Jealousy is of all others 
the most terrible of human passions. When once it fixes its 
roots in a hasty, sanguine nature, it becomes master of every 
action and every word ; and reason, justice, and humanity, all 
fly before it! When it pervades a less ardent spirit, impetu- 
osity is bridled ; but the desire of revenge is no less powerful, 
and too often seeks gratification in the exercise of cold treach- 
ery or petty annoyance : in either case, the eye magnifies 
every object which can at all feed the greediness of suspicion. 
When this passion has any fair cause, it may be justifiable, 
and a crisis generally ends it ; but when no cause exists, save 
in the distempered fancy of a sinking constitution, it is perma- 
nent and invincible. 

Such was the case with my friend : his jealousy had no fixed 
object on which to fasten itself, but wandered from person to 
person. Indeed, it could have no resting-place ; for in this 
point of view, Maria was blameless. But in the eye of my 
friend she had guilt — the guilt of being attractive. He con- 
ceived that everybody must love her as he did himself, and 



342 GEORGE HARTPOLE. 

fancied that a female universally admired could not be univer- 
sally ungrateful. 

This melancholy and morbid state of mind appeared to me 
likely to increase from residence in a metropolis, and I has- 
tened his departure for Shrewl castle, to take upon himself the 
office of high-sheriff. I did not go with them, for my mind 
misgave me : her mother met them there, and innocently 
completed the ruin of her children by a step the consequences 
whereof should ever be a warning to wives, to parents, and to 
husbands ! 

At Shrewl, Mrs. Otway perceived George's ideal malady ; 
she was a silly woman who fancied she was wise, and thought 
she never could do wrong because she always intended to do 
right. She proposed to Maria a most desperate remedy to cure 
her husband of his jealousy, though she did not reflect that it 
might probably be at the expense of his existence, and certainly 
of her daughter's duty. They conspired together, and wrote 
two or three letters directed to Mrs. Hartpole, without signature, 
but professing love, and designating meetings. These they 
took measures to drop so as Hartpole might accidentally find 
some of them, and thus they thought in the end to convince 
him of his folly, and laugh him out of his suspicions. 

The result niay be easily anticipated by those who have 
read with attention the character of the husband. He became 
outrageous ; the development did not pacify him ; and his 
paroxysm was nearly fatal. Maria was in consequence but 
little better, and the unexpected result of her own injudicious 
conduct nearly distracted the unhappy mother. But it was 
too late to retrieve their error : the die was thrown ; Hartpole 
was inflexible ; and the first I heard of it was Maria's depar- 
ture to her father's, and a final separation : and thus, after a 
marriage of little more than eighteen months, that ill-starred 
young man, completely the sport of fortune, became once more 
solitary ! Laboring under the false idea that he could soon con- 
quer his attachment, he made Maria an ample separate main- 
tenance, and determined to go to Lisbon, where he thought a 
change of scene might, perhaps, restore his peace, and the 
climate his shattered constitution. 



SEPAEATION MISCHIEYOUS HOAX. 34:3 

Before lie sailed, I endeavored in vain to reconcile tliem. 
She did not love liim well enough to risk a farther residence 
at Shrewl, in tlie absence of her connections ; and his mind 
was casehardened against the whole family from which she 
sprang. His reasons to me for parting from her finally, were 
at least plausible. 

"I acquit her at once," said he, "of ever having shown a 
symptom of impropriety, nay even of giddiness : there I was 
wrong, and I own it : but she has proved herself perfectly 
capable of, and expert at, deception ; and the woman that has 
practised deception for my sake would be equally capable of 
practising it for lier own. So far from curing my error, she has 
confirmed me in it ; and when confidence ceases separation 
ought to ensue." 

Hartpole shortly after embarked for Portugal, and only 
returned' to terminate his short career by a lingering and pain- 
ful death. 

On his arrival at Lisbon without any amendment in either 
mind or body, I felt, and I am sure he did himself, that the 
world was fast receding from him. The rufiianly manners of 
the person whom he had chosen as a led-captain, were little 
congenial to his own characteristic mildness. He had, how- 
ever, a most faithful valet ; and after a feAV posts, I conceived, 
from his letters, that his spirits had very much improved, when 
a circumstance occurred which, had he been in health, would 
have been merely ludicrous ; but which the shattered state of 
his nerves rendered him almost incapable of bearing up against. 

On his marriage he had given the commission he then held 
to Mr. Otway, his brother-in-law (I believe, noAv, General 
Otway) ; on his separation, however, he determined to resume 
the profession, and accordingly purchased a commission in a 
regiment of the line then raising by his uncle, the late Lord 
Aldborough ; and he had been gazetted previously to his de- 
parture. 

After he had been a short time at Lisbon, some mischievous 
person, for some mischievous object, informed his uncle that 
he been dead a fortnight ! and, without furtlier inquiry, that 
nobleman resold George's commission, and an announcement 



344: GEOKGE HAETPOLE. 

appeared in tlie newspapers, that Hartpole had fallen a victim 
at Lisbon, to consumption, the rapid progress of which had 
rendered his case hopeless even before he quitted Ireland, 
adding the name of the party who had succeeded him in his 
regiment. 

Now the fact is, that the climate of Lisbon had been of great 
service to his health ; and he was quickly recovering strength 
and spirits, when taking up, one day, an English paper, he 
read the above-mentioned paragraph. 

His valet described to me coarsely the instantaneous effect 
of this circumstance on his master's mind. It seemed to pro- 
claim his fate by anticipation : his commission was disposed 
of, under the idea that he was actually dead ; every melan- 
choly reflection crowded upon him ; he totally relapsed ; and 
I firmly believe that paragraph was his death-blow. After 
lingering several months longer, he returned to England, and 
I received a letter requesting me to meet him Avithout delay at 
Bristol, and stating that he had made his will. I immediately 
undertook the journey, and took him over a horse which I 
conceived adapted to him at that time. His sister (the present 
Mrs. Bowen, of Hutland square) was with him. His figure was 
emaciated to the last degree*, and he was sinking rapidly into 
the grave. He was attended by a very clever young physician 
of that place, a Doctor Barrow, and I soon perceived that the 
doctor had fallen a victim to the charms of Miss Hartpole. 

The patient had, however, declined but little in appetite, 
when the disorder suddenly fixed itself in his throat, and he 
ceased to have the power of eating : he now entirely gave 
himself up as a person who must die of hunger. This melan- 
choly scene almost distracted me, and produced a most unpleas- 
ant affection of the head. The doctor gave us little consola- 
tion ; and Hartpole himself, though reduced to such a state, 
was really the most cheerful of the party, evincing a degree of 
resignation at once heroic and touching. His will had been 
prepared by Mr. Lemans, of Bristol (to me a perfect stranger), 
and executed while I was in Ireland : he informed us all that 
I was joint executor, with two of his uncles. 

On the morning of Hartpole's death, he sent for me to rise 



HIS DEATH. 345 

and come to him. I found liim in an agony of Imnger — per- 
spiration in large drops rolling down his face. He said, 
neither food nor liquid could descend into his stomach ; that 
his ribs had contracted inward, as' if convulsively drawn 
together ; and that he was in great pain. I can not describe 
my emotion ! He Avalked about his room and spoke to me 
earnestly" on many subjects, on some of which I have been, 
and ever shall be, totally silent. At length he called me to 
the window : — " Barrington," said he, " you see at a distance 
a very green field?" "Yes," I replied. "Well," continued 
George, " it is my dying request that I may be buried there 
to-morrow evening^ 

He spoke so calmly and strongly, that I felt much surprised. 
He observed this, and said, " It is true : 1 am in the agonies of 
deaths I now called the doctor and Hartpole's servant: the 
invalid sat down upon the bed ; and when he took me by the 
hand, I shuddered, for it was burning hot, while every nerve 
and sinew seemed to be in spasmodic action. I never had 
been in collision with a dying person before : he pressed my 
hand with great fervor, and murmured, "My friend!" these 
were the last words I heard him utter. I looked in his face : 
his eyes were glazed — his lips quivered — he laid his head on 
the pillow, and expired. 

This awful scene, to me so perfectly new, overpowered me, 
and for a few minutes I was myself insensible. 

I disobeyed Hartpole's injunctions respecting his funeral ; 
for I had his body enclosed in a leaden coffin and sent to be 
interred at Shrewl castle, in the cemetery of his ancestors, 
wherein his remains were not admitted without much reluc- 
tance by his ungrateful sister and her husband, who resided 
there in his absence. 

On the reading of the will, his first bequest appeared to be 
to " his friend Barrington, six thousand pounds," together with 
the reversion of his landed estates and collieries, on the death 
of his sisters without children : one had been some time mar- 
ried and had none ; the other was unmarried, bijt soon after 
made a match with a gentleman of considerable property, but 

15* 



346 GEOEGE HARTPOLE. 

whom I should thmk few young ladies of fortune would have 
fancied. 

The uncles avouM not act as executors : considered me as 
an interloper; and commenced a suit to annul the will, as 
prepared under undue influence. Fortunately for my reputa- 
tion, I had never known the persons who prepared it, was in 
another kingdom at the time, and had not seen Hartpole for 
many months before its execution : Jiis sister was with him ; 
not I. 

I got a decree without delay. The family of Stratford, who 
preferred law to all other species of pcistime, appealed. My 
decree was confirmed, and they were burdened with the whole 
costs; and in effect paid me six thousand pounds,. on an ami- 
cable arrangement. My reversion yielded me nothing ; for I 
fancy the sisters have since had nearly twenty children be- 
tween them to inherit it. 

Thus ended Hartpole's life, and thus did a family become 
extinct, of the most respectable description. I neither looked 
to nor expected any legacy from my friend, beyond a mourn- 
ing ring. He left numerous other bequests, including a con- 
siderable one to Mary Sleven, whose fate I never heard. 

The sequel of Maria Otway's history was not much less mel- 
ancholy than that of her unhappy partner, as she died prema- 
turely, by the most affecting of all deaths — in childbirth. I 
saw her after the separation, but never after George's decease. 
As I predicted, her style of beauty was not calculated to wear 
well ; and even before she was out of her teens, Maria Otway 
had been much handsomer. Her manner became more studied 
— of course, less graceful : and that naivete, which had rendered 
her so engaging to my friend, was superseded by the cold affec- 
tation which fashionable manners prescribe. 

Maria, I think, never had been attached to Hartpole ; and 
within two years after his decease, she made another and a 
most unexceptionable match — namely, with Mr. Prittie, the 
present member for Tipperary : but Providence seemed to pur- 
sue fatally even the relict of my friend ; and at the age of 
twenty-three, death cut off the survivor of that union which an 
unconcerned spectator would have deemed so auspicious. It 



ii 



THE PEER OF A HUNDEED. WILLS." 347 



is said, but I do not wish to be understood as voucliing tlie re- 
port, tliat after Mrs. Prittie's death, a prediction of its occur- 
rence was found written by herself six months before, designa- 
ting the precise time of her departure.' 

I have been diffuse on the memoirs of Hartpole, because I 
felt myself interested in almost every material event of his 
career. To overlook our friendship, indeed, and his liberality, 
would have been uugrateful in any memoir of myself.* 

Before I quit these " fond records," and the associations 
which they excite, I am tempted once more to revert to the 
peculiarities of the Stratford family, which indeed present an 
ample field for anecclote. More curious or dissimilar charac- 
ters never surely bore the same name ! 

Earl Eobert, one of those who declared war against me on 
Hartpole's death, was surnamed " The Peer of a Hundred 
Wills;"" and it is matter of fact that, upon a trial at law in 
County Wicklow, since his lordship's death, fifty different wills 
were produced, together with a great number of afiidavits, &c., 
also signed by the earl. Several of these documents are of 
the most singular description, highly illustrative of the earl's 
character, and I should think among the most extraordinary 
papers existing in the prerogative court. 

It was a general rule with this peer to make a will or codi- 
cil in favor of any person with whom he was desirous of carry- 
ing a point, taking especial care that the party should be made 
acquainted with his proceeding. No sooner, however, was his 
end accomplished, and other game started, than a fresh instru- 
ment annulled all the provisions of the preceding one ! Thus, 
if desirous of obtaining a lady's regards, 7ie made a will in licr 
favor, and let her find it hy accident. He at length got fifty 
thousand pounds with a grand-daughter of the duke of Chandos. 

In the cause before mentioned, I was retained by the late 
Earl John, to argue that his brother was mad, and Mr. Plun- 
kett vras my opponent. In support of our position it was that 
the fifty wills were produced ; and I hesitate not to say that 
either of them, had it emanated from any other individual than 
his lordship, would have been deemed conclusive. But the 
* George Hartpole v/as sponsor to my only son. 



3i8 GEOEGE HAETPOLE. 

jury had known the party whose vagaries they were summoned 
to decide upon ; and therefore found, as usual, in favor of his 
lordship's last will. I subsequently asked one of those gentle- 
men the grounds of their verdict ; and his answer was — " We 
all knew well that the testator was more ***** than fool : did 
you ever hear of anybody talcing lihn in V — and, the truth is, 
the jury were right : for I never met with a man who had more 
worldly sense and tact than Robert, earl of Aldborough, and 
owing to my close connection with his nephew Hartpole, I had 
abundant opportunities of judging. 

The present countess-dowager of Aldborough was in the 
habit of uttering jeux dJesjprit with more spirit and grace than 
any woman in the world. She often cut deeply ; but so keen 
and polished was the edge of her wit, that the patient was 
never mangled. 

The cause of her naming the Honorable and E-everend Paul 
Stratford, her brother-in-law, ** Holy Paul," was droll enough. 
Mount Neil, a remarkably fine old country-house, furnished in 
the ancient style, was that ecclesiastic's family mansion, where- 
in he resided many years, but of which it was thought he at 
last grew tired. One windy night, this house (some time after 
it had been insured to a large amount) most perversely and 
miraculously took fire (the common people still say, and verily 
believe, it was of its own accord). No water was to be had ; 
the flames raged ; the tenants bustled, jostled, and tumbled 
over each other, in a general uproar and zeal to save his rev- 
erence's great house. His reverence alone, meek and resigned, 
beheld the voracious element devour his hereditary property — 
piously attributing the evil solely to the just will of Providence 
as a punishment for his having vexed his mother some years 
before her death ! Under this impression, the Honorable and 
Reverend Paul adopted the only rational and pious means of 
extinguishing the conflagration : he fell on his knees in front 
of the blazing mansion, and, with clasped and uplifted hands, 
and in the tone of a saint during his martyrdom, besought the 
Lord to show him mercy, and extinguish a flame which was 
setting all human aid at defiance ! The people around, how- 
ever, did not place equal reliance on the interposition of Prov- 



A FIRM EELIAKCE ON PEOVIBENCE. 349 

idence, Avliich, as a countiy-fellow very judiciously observed, 
miglit be employed somewhere else at the time, and unable to 
look to his reverence's business : so they continued, while prac- 
ticable, to bring out the furniture piecemeal, and range it on 
the grass-plot. Paul no sooner perceived the result of their 
exertions, than, still on his knees, he cried out : " Stop, stop ! 
throw all my valuables back into the flames ! Never fly, my 
friends, in the face of Heaven ! When the Almighty resolved 
to burn my house, he most certainly intended to destroy the 
furniture. I feel resigned. The Lord's will be done !" 

The tenants reluctantly obeyed his orders ; but, unfortunate- 
ly for " Holy Paul," the insurance-company, when applied to 
for payment of his losses, differed altogether from his reverence 
as to the dispensation of Providence, and absolutely refused to 
pay any part of the damage incurred. 

So much disrepute did the Honorable and Reverend Paul 
get into by this occurrence, that people were not prone to em- 
ploy him on clerical functions, and his nephew himself peremp- 
torily declined being married by him. In fact, the stain of 
holy Paul's character was, inordinate love of money ; he had 
very good property, but was totally averse to paying away 
anything. He was put into prison by his niece's husband, 
where he long remained rather than render a due account ; 
and when at length he did so, he refused to pay a few pounds* 
fees, and continued voluntarily in confinement until his death. 



HAMILTON EOWAN AND THE BAR. 

Sketch of the Chnracter of Mr Hamilton Rowan — His Quixotic Spirit of Phiianthropy— 
Case of Mary Neil, taken up by Mr. Rowan — Dinner-Club among the Brieiiess Barristers 
of Dublin — Apparifion of Mr. Hamilton Rowan and his Dog — More frightened than hurt 
— An Unanswerable Q,uery — Mr. Rowan's Subsequent Adventures — :The Rev, Mr. Jack- 
son — He is brought up to receive Sentence for High-Treason, and expires in Court. 

There were few persons whose history was connected with 
that of Ireland during my time, who excited my interest in a 
greater degree than Mr. Hamilton Rowan. The dark points 
of this gentleman's character have been assiduously exhibited 



350 HAMILTON now AN AND THE BAB. 

by persons who knew little or nothing of his life, and that, too, 
long after he had ceased to be an obnoxious character. I will 
endeavor to show the obverse of the medal ; and I claim the 
meed of perfect disinterestedness, which will, I think, be 
awarded, wlien I state that- 1 never had the least social inter- 
course with Mr. Rowan, whose line of politics was always deci- 
dedly opposed to my own. 

Archibald Hamilton Rowan (I believe he still lives) is a gen- 
tleman of most respectable family, and of ample fortune. Con- 
sidered merely as a private character, .1 fancy there are few 
who will not give him full credit for every quality which does 
honor to that station in society. As a philanthropist, he cer- 
tainly carried his ideas even beyond reason, and to a degree 
of excess which I really think laid in his mind the foundation 
of all his enthusiastic proceedings, both in common life and in 
politics. 

The first interview I had with this gentleman did not occupy 
more than a few minutes ; but it was of a most impressive na- 
ture, and, though now eight-and-thirty years back, appears as 
fresh to my eye as if it took place yesterday : in- truth, I believe 
it must be equally. present to every individual of the company 
who survives, and is not too old to remember anything. 

There is generally in every metropolis some temporary in- 
cident which serves as a common subject of conversation ; 
something which nominally excites interest, but which in fact 
nobody cares a sous about, though for the day it sells all the 
newspapers, and gives employment to every tongue, till some 
new occurrence happens, to work up curiosity and change the 
topic. 

In 1788, a very young girl, of the name of Mary Neil, had 
been ill-treated by a person unknown, aided by a woman. 
The late Lord Carhampton was supposed to be the transgres- 
sor, but without any proof whatsoever of his lordship's culpa- 
bility. The humor of Hamilton Rowan, which had a sort of 
quixotic tendency to resist all oppression and to redress ev- 
ery species of wrong, led him to take up the cause of Mary 
Neil with a zeal and enthusiastic perseverance which nobody 
but the knight of La Mancha could have exceeded. Day and 



HIS ZEAL IN BEHALF OF MART NEIL. 351 

niglit tlie ill-treatment of this girl was the subject of his 
thoughts, his actions, his dreams : he even went about preach- 
ing a kind of crusade in her favor, and succeeded in gaining a 
great many partisans among the citizens ; and, in short, he 
eventually- obtained a conviction of the woman as accessary to 
a crime, the perpetrator whereof remained undiscovered, and 
she accordingly received sentence of death. Still Mary Neil 
was not bettered by this conviction : she was utterly unpro- 
vided for, had suffered much, and seemed quite wretched. Yet 
there were not wanting persons who doubted her truth, decried 
her former character, and represented her story as that of an 
impostor. This not only hurt the feelings and philanthropy 
but the pride of Hamilton Rowan ; and he vowed personal ven- 
geance against all her calumniators, high and low. 

At this time abo^^t twenty young barristers, including myself, 
had formed a dinner-club in Dublin. We had taken large 
apartments for the purpose ; and, as we were not yet troubled 
with too much business, were in the habit of faring luxuriously 
every day, and taking a bottle of the best claret which could 
be obtained.* 

There never existed a more cheerful nor half so cheap a 
dinner-club. One day, while dining with our usual hilarity, 
the servant informed us that a gentleman below stairs desired 
to be admitted for a moment. We considered it to be some 
brother-barrister who requested permission to join our party, 
and desired him to be shown up. What was our surprise, how- 
ever, on perceiving the figure that presented itself! — a man, 
who might have served as model for a Hercules, his gigantic 
Ijmbs conveying the idea of almost supernatural strength ; his 
shoulders, arms, and broad chest, were the very emblems of 
muscular energy ; and his flat, rough countenance, overshad- 
owed by enormous dark eyebroAvs, and deeply furrowed by 
strong lines of vigor and fortitude, completed one of the finest 
yet most formidable figures I had ever beheld. He was very 

* One of us, Counsellor Townly Fitgate (afterward ehairman of Wicklow 
county), having a pleasure-cutter of his own in the harbor of Dublin, used 
to send her to smuggle claret for us from the isle of Man : he made a friend 
of one of the tidewaiters, and we consequently had the very best wines on 
the cheapest possible terms. 



352 HAMILTON ROWAN AND THE BAR. 

well dressed. Close by his side stalked in a shaggy Newfound- 
land dog of corresponding magnitude, with hair a foot long, 
and who, if he should be voraciously inclined, seemed well 
able to devour a barrister or two without overcharging his 
stomach : as he entered, indeed, he alternately looked at us 
and then up at his master, as if only awaiting the orders of 
the latter to commence the onslaught. His master held in his 
hand a large, yellow, knotted club, slung by a leathern thong 
round his great wrist ; he had also a long small-sword by his 
side. 

This apparition walked deliberately up to the table ; and, 
having made his obeisance with seeming courtesy, a short 
pause ensued, during which he looked round -on all of the 
company with an aspect, if not stern, yet ill calculated to set 
our minds at ease, either as to his or his dog's ulterior inten- 
tions. 

" Gentlemen !" at length he said, in a tone and with an air 
at once so mild and courteous, nay, so polished, as fairly to 
give the lie, as it were, to his gigantic and threatening figure 
— "Gentlemen! I have heard, with very great regret, that 
some members of this club have been so indiscreet as to calum- 
niate the character of Mary Neil, which, from the part I have 
taken, I feel identified with my own. If any present have 
done so, I doubt not he will now have the candor and courage 
to avow it. Who avows it ?" The dog looked up at him 
again ; he returned the glance, but contented himself for the 
present with patting the animal's head, and was silent. So 
were we. 

The extreme surprise, indeed, with which our party was 
seized, bordering almost on consternation, rendered all consul- 
tation as to a reply out of the question ; and never did I see 
the old axiom that " what is everybody's business is nobody's 
business" more thoroughly exemplified. A few of the company 
whispered each his neighbor, and I perceived one or two steal 
a fruitknife under the table-cloth, in case of extremities ; but 
no one made any reply. We were eighteen in number ; and 
as neither would or could answer for the others, it would re- 
quire eighteen replies to satisfy the giant's single query : and " 



AN EXTEAOEDINAEY INTERVIEW. 353 

I fancy some of us could not have replied to his 'satisfaction, 
and stuck to tlie trutli into the bargain. 

He repeated his demand (elevating Jiis tone each time) 
thrice : " Does any gentleman avow it ?" A faint buzz now 
circulated round the room, but there was no answer whatsoever. 
Communication was cut off, and there was a dead silence. At 
length our visiter said, with a loud voice, that he must suppose, 
if any gentleman had made any observations or assertions 
against Mary Neil's character, he would have had the courage 
and the spirit to avow it : " Therefore," continued he, " I shall 
take it for granted that my information was erroneous; and, 
in that point of view, I regret having alarmed your society." 
And, without another word, he bowed three times very low, 
and retired backward to the door (his dog also backing out 
with eq[ual. politeness), where, with a salaam doubly ceremoni- 
ous, Mr. E-owan ended this extraordinary interview. On the 
first of his departing bows, by a simultaneous impulse, we all 
rose and returned his salute, almost touching the table with our 
noses, but still in profound silence ; which hooing on both sides 
was repeated, as I have said, till he was fairly out of the room. 
Three or four of the company then ran hastily to the window, 
to be sure that he and the dog were clear off into the street ; 
and no sooner had this satisfactory denouement been ascertained, 
than a general roar of laughter ensued, and we talked it over 
in a hundred different ways ; the whole of our arguments, how- 
ever, turned upon the question " which had behaved the po- 
litest upon the occasion," but not one word was uttered as to 
which had behaved the stoutest. 

' This spirit of false chivalry, which took such entire posses- 
sion of Hamilton Rowan's understanding, was soon diverted 
into the channels of political theory ; and from the discussion 
of general politics he advanced to the contemplation of sedi- 
tion. His career in this respect was short : he was tried and 
convicted of circulating a factious joaper, and sentenced to a 
heavy fine and a long imprisonment, during which, political 
charges of a much more serious nature were arrayed against 
him. He fortunately escaped from prison to the house of Mr. 
Evans, of Portrenne, near Dublin, and got off in a fishing-boat 



354: HAMILTON EOWAN AND THE BAE. 

to France, wtere, after immerous dangers, lie at length arrived 
safely. Rowan subsequently resided some years in America, 
in whicli country lie had leisure for reflection, and saw plainly 
the folly and mischief of his former conduct. The government 
found that his contrition was sincere. He eventually received 
his majesty's free pardon ; and I have since seen him and his 
family at the castle drawing-rooms, in dresses singularly splen- 
did, where they were well received by the viceroy and by 
many of the nobility and gentry : and the people should con- 
sider that his majesty's free pardon for political offences is 
always meant to wipe away every injurious feeling from his 
subject's recollection. 

The mention of Mr. Rowan reminds me of an anecdote of a 
singular nature, extremely affecting, and which at the time 
was the subject of much conversation ; and as a connection 
was alleged to exist between him and the unfortunate gentle- 
man to whom it relates (which connection had nearly proved 
fatal to Mr. Rowan), I consider this not an inappropriate place 
to allude to the circumstance. 

Mr. Jackson, an English clergyman, who had come over to 
assist in organizing a revolution in Ireland, had been arrested 
in that country, tried, and found guilty of high treason in cor- 
responding with the enemy in France. I was in court when 
Mr. Jackson was brought up to receive sentence of death ; and 
I believe whoever was present must recollect it as one of the 
most touching and uncommon scenes which appeared during 
that eventful period. 

He was conducted into the usual place where prisoners stand 
to receive sentence. He was obviously much affected as he 
entered ; his limbs seemed to totter, and large drops of per- 
spiration rolled down his face. He was supposed to fear death, 
and to be in great terror. The judge began the usual admoni- 
tion before he pronounced sentence: the prisoner seemed to 
regard it but little, appearing abstracted by the internal agony. 
. This was still attributed to apprehension : he covered his 
face, and seemed sinking: the judge paused — the crowd 
evinced surprise — and the sheriff, on examination, declared 
the prisoner was too ill to hear his sentence. Meamvliile the 



SUICIDE OF JACKSON IN COUKT. 855 

wretclied culprit continued to droop, and at length, his limbs 
giving way, he fell ! A visitation so unexampled created a 
great sensation in the court : a physician was immediately 
summoned, but too late ; Jackson had eluded his denouncers, 
and was no more. 

It was d'' "covered that, previous to his coming into court, he 
had taken a large quantity of arsenic and aquafortis mixed in 
tea. No judgment, of course, was pronounced against him. 
He had a splendid funeral, and to the astonishment of Dublin, 
it was attended by several members of parliament and bar- 
risters ! a Mr. Tigh, and Counsellor B-ichard Guinness, were 
among them. 

It is worthy of observation, that I was always on friendly, 
may, intimate terms, with many leading persons of the two 
^most hostile and intolerant political bodies that could possibly 
exist together in one country, and in the midst of the most 
tumultuous and bloody scenes, I did not find that I had one 
enemy. It is singular, but true, that my attachment to the 
government, and my activity in support of it, yet, placed me 
in no danger from its inveterate enemies ; and in several in- 
stances I was sought as mediator between the rebel and Lord 
Kilwarden, then attorney-general ;* of whom, now he is no 
more, it is but justice to say, that of all the law-officers and 
official servants of the crown I ever had communication with, 
the most kind-hearted, clement, and honorable, was one whose 
manners and whose name conveyed a very different reputation. 
I know that he had been solicited to take some harsh measures 
as to the barristers who attended Jackson's funeral ; and 
though he might have been justified in doing so, he said " that 
both the honor of his profession and the feelings of his own 
mind, prevented him from giving publicity to, or stamping as a 
crime, what he was sure in its nature could only be inad- 
vertency." 

* He was at that time Mr. Wolfe. An information ex-qfficio had been 
filed against a printer in Cork for a seditious neNvspaper: it turned out that 
the two Counsellors Slieers were the real editors. They begged of nie to 
mediate with the attorney-general. He liad always a strong feeling for the 
honor and character of his profession, and forgave all parties on conditions 
"which I all but vouched for, but to which they certainly did not adhere. 



356 SELF-DECAPITATION. 



SELF-DECAPITATION. 

An Irish Peasant cutting his own head off by mistake — His reputed Ghost — Natural deaths 
of the Irish Peasantry — Reflections on the Excise Laws. 

Among my memorandums of singular incidents, I find one 
Avliicli even now affords me as mucli amusement as such a cir- 
cumstance can possibly admit of; and as it is, at tlie same time, 
tighly characteristic of the people among whom it occurred, 
in that view I relate it. A man decapitating himself hy mistake, 
is indeed a blunder of true Hibernian character. 

In the year 1800^ a laborer, dwelling near the town of Athy, 
County Kil dare, where some of my family then resided, was 
walking with his comrade up the banks of the Barrow to the 
farm of a Mr. Richardson, on whose meadows they were em- 
ployed to mow ; each, in the usual Irish way, having his scythe 
loosely wagging over his shoulder, and lazily lounging close to 
the bank of the river, they espied a salmon partly hid under 
the bank. It is the nature of this fish that, when his head is 
concealed, he fancies no one can see his tail (there are many 
wiseacres, beside the salmon, of the same way of thinking). 
On the present occasion the body of the fish was visible. 

*' Oh, Ned — Ned dear!" said one of the mowers, "look at 
that big fellow there, isn't it a pity we ha'n't no spear 1" 

" May be," said Ned, " we could be after piking the lad with 
the scythe handle." 

" True for you!" said Dennis; "spike of yeer handle is 
longer nor mine ; give the fellow a dig with it at any rate." 

" Ay, will I," returned the other ; " I'll give the lad a prod 
he'll never forget any how." 

The spike and their sport was all they thought of; but the 
blade of the scythe, which hung over Ned's shoulders, never 
came into the contemplation of either of them. Ned cautiously 
looked over the bank ; the unconscious salmon lay snug, little 
imagining the conspiracy that had been formed against his tail. 

"Now hit the lad smart!" said Dennis: "there now — 



HOW IT OCCTJKIiED. 357 

there ! rise your first : now you liave the boy ! now Ned — 
success !" 

Ned struck at the salmon with all his might and main, and 
that was not trifling. But whether " tl;ie hoy" was piked or 
not never appeared, for poor Ned, bending his neck as he struck 
at the salmon, placed the vertebrae in the most convenient 
position for unfurnishing his shoulders, and his head came 
tumbling splash into the Barrow, to the utter astonishment of 
his comrade, who could not conceive lioio it could drop off so 
suddenly. But the next minute he had the consolation of see- 
ing \\\Q head attended by one of his own ears, which had been 
most dexterously sliced off by the same blow which beheaded 
his comrade. 

The head and ear rolled down the river in company, and 
were picked up with extreme horror at the milldam, a-iear Mr. 
Richardson's, by one of the miller's men. ''^ 

*' Who the devil does this head belong to ?" exclaimed the 
miller. 

" Whoever owned it," said the man, " had three ears, at any 
rate." 

A search now being made, Ned's headless body was dis- 
covered lying half over the bank, and Dennis, in a swoon, 
through fright and loss of blood, was found recumbent by its 
side. Dennis, when brought to himself (which process was 
effected by whiskey), recited the whole adventure. They tied 
up the head ; the body was attended by a numerous assem- 
blage of Ned's countrymen to the grave ; and the habit of 
carrying scythes carelessly very much declined. Many acci- 
dents had happened before from that cause, and the priest very 
judiciously told his flock, after the De Profundis, that Ned's 
Tnisfortune was a just punishment for his negligence, whereby 
he had hurt a child a day or two before. 

From that time none of the country people would, on any 
occasion go after dark to the spot where the catastrophe hap- 
pened, as they say the doctor stole the head to anatomize it ; 
which fact was confirmed by a man without any head being 
frequently seen by the women and children who were occasion- 
ally led to pass the moat of Ascole, three miles from Athy, in 



358 SELF-DECAPITATION. 

the night-time ; and tliey really believed tlie apparition to be 
no other than the ghost of poor Ned Maher, looking every- 
where for his head that the doctor had made way with. 

This leads me to a digression more important. The super- 
stition of the lower orders of Irish, when death occurs in any 
peculiar manner, is superlative. In truth, the only three kinds 
of death they consider as natural are, dying quietly in their 
own cabins, being hanged, about the assize time, or starving 
when the potato crop is deficient. All these they regard as 
matters of course ; but any other species of dissolution is con- 
templated with much horror ; though, to be sure, they make no 
very strong objection to being shot at by a regular army. They 
say their " fathers and forefathers before them, were always 
used to that same ;" and all they expect in such case is, that 
there should be some sort of reason for it, which they them- 
selves frequently furnish. But those manslaughters which 
occur through the activity of the revenue officers in prevention 
of distillation, they never can reconcile themselves to, and 
never forgive. They can not understand the reason for this at 
all, and treasure up a spirit of savage revenge to the last day 
of their lives. 

An ignorant poor cottager says, naturally enough, to his 
landlord, " Ough ! then is n't it mighty odd, plase your honor, 
that we are not hindered from eating oats, whenever we can 
get any/? but if we attempt to drink them, by J s, we are- 
kilt, and battered, and shot, and burned out like a parcel of 
dogs by the excisemen, that's twice greater rogues nor we are, 
plase your honor." 

In truth it is to be lamented that this distinction between 
solids and fluids should not be better reconciled to the common 
sense of the peasantry, or be somehow regulated so as to pre- 
vent perpetual resort to that erroneous system of mountain 
Warfare and revenue bloodshed, which ever has kept, and ever 
will keep, whole districts of Ireland in a state of excitement 
and distraction, I know that I speak the sentiments of some 
of his majesty's enlightened ministers on this subject. 



A LEARNED BEAR. 359 



FATHEE O'LEAEY. 6^ 



Humorous Stoiy of Father O'Leary and a Bear — Mistaken Notions respecting Ireland on 
the Continent — Lord Ventry and his Tenant ; an Anecdote characteristic of the Irish 
Peasant. 

I FREQUENTLY had an opportunity of meeting at my father- 
in-law's, Mr. Grogan's, where he often dined, a most worthy 
priest, Father O'Leary, and have listened frequently with 
great zest to anecdotes which he used to tell with a quaint yet 
spirited humor quite unique. His manner, his air, his counte- 
nance, all bespoke wit, talent, and a good heart. I liked his 
company excessively, and have often regretted I did not culti- 
vate his acquaintance more, or recollect his witticisms better. 
It was singular, but it was fact, that even before Father 
O'Leary opened his lips, a stranger would say, " That is an 
Irishman," and at the same time guess him to be a priest. 

One anecdote in particular I remember. Coming from St. 
Omer, he told us, he stopped a few days to visit a brother 
priest in the town of Boulogne sur Mer. Here he heard of a 
great curiosity which all the people were running to see — a 
curious bear that some fishermen had taken at sea out of a 
wreck ; it had sense, and attempted to utter a sort of lingo 
which they called patois, but which nobody understood. 

O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder, which was 
shown at the port by candlelight, and was a very odd kind of 
animal, no doubt. The bear had been taught a hundred tricks, 
all to be performed at the keeper's word of command. It was 
late in the evening when O'Leary saw him, and the bear 
Seemed sulky ; the keeper, however, with a short spike at the 
end of a pole, made him move about briskly. He marked on 
sand what o'clock it was, with his paw, and distinguished the 
men and women in a very comical way ; in fact, our priest was 
quite diverted. The beast at length grew tired ; the keeper 
hit him with the pole ; he stirred a little^ but continued quite 
sullen : his master coaxed him — no ! he would not work ! At 
length, the brute of a keeper gave him two or three sharp pricks 



360 FATHER o'lEAKY. 

witli tlie goad, when he roared out most tremendously, and 
rising on his hind legs, swore at his tormentor in very good 
native Irish. 

O'Leary waited no longer, but went immediately to the 
mayor, whom he informed that the blackguards of fishermen 
had sewed up a poor Irishman in a bear-skin, and were 
showing him for six sous ! This civic dignitary, who had 
himself seen the bear, would not believe our friend : at last 
O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room. On 
their arrival the bear was still upon duty ; and O'Leary, step- 
ping up to him, says, " Gand e tha liaion, VatV^ (How do you 
do, Pat?) — '■'' Slanger a manugoutli^'' (Pretty well, thank'ee), 
says the bear. The people were surprised to hear how plainly 
he spoke : but the mayor directly ordered him to be ripped up ; 
and after some opposition and a good deal of difficulty, Pat 
stepped forth (stark naked) out of the bear-skin wherein he 
had been fourteen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched. The 
women made ofi"; the men stood astonished; and the mayor 
ordered the keepers to be put in jail unless they satisfied him ; 
but that was presently done. The bear afterward told O'Leary 
that he was very well fed, and did not care much about the 
clothing, only they worked him too hard. The fishermen had 
found him at sea on a hencoop, which had saved him from 
going to the bottom with a ship wherein he had a little venture 
of dried cod from Dungarvon, and which was bound from 
Waterford to Bilboa. He could not speak a word of any lan- 
guage but Irish, and had never been at sea before. The 
fishermen had brought him in, fed him well, and endeavored 
to repay themselves by showing him as a curiosity. 

O'Leary's mode of telling this story was quite admirable. I 
never heard any anecdote (and I believe this one to have been 
true) related with so much genuine drollery, which was en- 
hanced by his not changing a muscle himself while every one 
of his hearers was in a paroxysm of laughter. 

Another anecdote he used to tell with incomparable dramatic 
humor. By-the-bye, all his stories were in some v/ay national ; 
and this gives me occasion to remark, that I think Ireland is 
at this moment nearly as little known on many parts of the 



lEELAXD LITTLE KXOVrX ABROAD. " 361 

continent as it seems to have been tlien. I liave myself lieard- 
it more tlian once spoken of as an English town. 

At Nancy, where Father O'Leary was travelling, liis native 
country happened to be mentioned ; when one of the societe, a 
quiet French farmer of Burgundy, asked in an unassuming 
tone, *' If Ireland stood encore V — " Encore /" said an aston- 
ished John Bull courier, coming from Germany, " encore ! to be 
sure she does : we have her yet, I assure you, monsieur.'.'^ 
" Though neither very safe nor very sound," interposed an 
officer of the Irish brigade, who happened to be present, look- 
ing over significantly at O'Leary, and not very complacently at 
the courier. " And^ pi'^-^7> monsieur," rejoined the John Bull 
to the Frenchman, " why encore ?" " Pardon, monsieur," re- 
plied the Frenchman, " I heard it had been worn out {fatigue) 
long ago by the great number of people that were living in it !" 

The fact is, the Frenchman had been told, and really under- 
stood, that Ireland was a large house where the English were 
wont to send their idle vagabonds, and whence they were 
drawn out again as they were wanted to fill the ranks of the 
army : and (I speak from my own personal knowledge) in 
some interior parts of the continent the existence of Ireland, 
as a nation^ is totally unknown, or it is at best considered as 
about a match for Jersey, &c. On the seacoasts they are bet- 
ter informed. This need not surprise us, when we have heard 
of a native of St. Helena formerly (who never had been out of 
the island), v/ho seriously asked an English officer, " If there 
were many landing-places in England V 

Some ideas of the common Irish are so strange, and uttered 
so unconsciously, that in the mouths of any other people they 
, might be justly considered profane. In those of my country- 
men, however, such expressions are idiomatic, and certainly 
spoken without the least idea of profanity. 

The present Lord Ventry was considered, before his father's 
death, the oldest heir aj)parent in the Irish peerage, to which 
his father had been raised in 1800, in consequence of an ar- 
rangement made with Lord Oastlcreaih at the time of the 
union. He had for many years been bed-ridden, and had ad- 
vanced to a very great age latterly without any corresponding 

16 



362 DEiVni OF LORD EOSS^MOEE. 

utility : yet little appreliensions were entertained of liis speedy 
dissolution. 

A tenant on the estate, the stability of whose lease depended 
entirely on the son surviving the father, and who was beginning 
to doubt which of them might die of old age first, said seriously 
to the, heir apparent, but without the slightest idea of any sort 
of impropriety, either as respected God or man : — 

** Ah, then. Master Squire Mullins, isn't it mighty strange 
that my poor ould landlord (Heaven preserve his noble lord- 
ship !) should lie covered up in the bed all this time past? 
I think, plase your honor, that it would be well done, to take 
his lordship (Lord bless his honor !) up to the tip-top of Crow- 
Patrick, and hold him up there as high as could be — just to 
show his lordship a bit to the Virgin. For I'm sure, plase 
your honor, if God Almighty hadn't quite forgotten his lord- 
ship, he would have taken him home to himself long and many 
a day ago." 



DEATH OF LORD ROSSMORE. 

sMctures on Dr. Johnson — His Biographer Boswell — False D;='finitions and Erroneous 
Ethics — Superstition — Supcriiatura] Appearances — Theological Argument of the Author 
in Favor of Iiis Peculiar Faith — OriginHl Pof-try by Miss T . . . — The Author purchases 
Lady«Mayo's Desmesne, County Wicklow — Terrific and Cultivated Scenery contrasted — 
Description of the Golden B^ltof Ireland, and the Beauties of the above-mentioned County 
— Lord Rossmore — His Character — Supernatural Incident of a most Extraordinary Na- 
ture, vouched by Living Witnesses, and Attendant on the Sudden Death of his Lordship. 

It is not pleasant to differ essentially from the general 
opinions of the. world, and nothing but a firm belief that we 
are right can bear us up in so doing. I feel ray own fallibility 
poignantly, when I venture to remark upon the celebrated 
personage 'yclept " the great moralist of England." 

To criticise the labors of that giant of literature I am une- 
qual : to detract from his ethics is not my object. But it surely 
savors not of treason to avow that parts of his lexicon I con- 
demn, and much of his philosophy I dissent from. 

It is fortunate for the sake of truth that Boswell became 
Johnson's biographer ; for, as the idolators of China devoutly 



STRICTURES ON DR. JOHNSON. 363 

attach a full proportion of bad qualities to tlie object of their 
adoration, so in like manner, he has shown no want of candor 
as to the doctor's failings ; and it might have been still wiser 
in him to have reflected on the iinliind propensities of this 
wicked world, by which reflection his eulogiums would proba- 
bly have been rendered less fulsome, and his biography yet 
more correct. 

The English language had been advancing gradually in its 
own jog-trot way from the days of Bayley to those of Johnson ; 
it travelled over a plain, smooth surface, and on a gentle ascent. 
Everybody formerly appear to understand each other tolerably 
well : words were then very intelligible, and women, in general, 
found no difficulty in pronouncing them. But the great lexi- 
cographer soon convinced the British people (the Irish are out 
of the question) that they had been reading, writing, and 
spouting in a starved, contracted tongue, and that the magni- 
ficent dassimibomimus^ of the Grecian language were ready in 
polysyllables to relieve that wretched poverty under which 
ours had so long languished. 

This noble revolution in letters has made a progress so 
rapid, that I found in one essay of a magazine, two or three 
months ago, no fewer than twenty-four words which required 
me to make as many references to our great lexicon. ^ . 

Nobody can deny the miraculous labor which that work 
must have required. Yet now, when enthusiasm has somewhat 
abated, and no danger exists of being clapper-claw^ed by the 
doctor himself, some ungrateful English grammarians have pre- 
sumed to assert that, under the gaberdine of so great an au- 
thority, anybody is lawfully entitled to coin any English word 
he chooses out of any foreign language he thinks proper ; and 
that we may thus tune up our vocabulary to the key of a 
lingua franca, an assemblage of all tongues, sounds, and idioms, 
dead or living. It has also been asserted, since his decease, 
that the doctor's logic is frequently false in both premises and 
conclusion, his ethics erroneous, his philosophy often unintelli- 
gible, and his diction generally bombastic. However, there 
are so many able and idle gentlemen of law, physic, and di- 
vinity, amply educated, with pens stuck behind their ears 



364: DEATH OF LORD ROSSMOEE. 

ready for action, and who arc mucli better skilled in the art 
and practice of criticism than I am, that I shall content myself 
with commenting' on one solitary word out of forty thousand — 
which word not only bears strongly on my own tenets and 
faith, but also affects one of the most extraordinary occuiTences 
of my life. 

This comprehensive and important word (which has upon 
occasion puzzled me more than any other in the English lan- 
guage) is *' superstition" — whereof one of the definitions given 
by the doctor, in his lexicon, appears to be rather inconsider- 
ate, namely, " religion without morality." Now, I freely and 
fully admit that I am superstitious ; yet I think it is rather 
severe and someAvhat singular in the doctor to admit my reli- 
gion and extinguish my morality, which I always considered 
as marching hand-in-hand. 

When Dr. Johnson began to learn his own morality, does 
not appear : I suppose not until he got an honorary degree 
from the pedants of Oxford. Collegiate degrees in general, 
however, work no great reformation, I am inclined to believe, 
in morality : at least I am certain that when I became a doc- 
tor of laws I did not feel my morals in the least improved by 
my diploma. I wish the candid Boswell had mentioned the 
precise epocha of the doctor's reformation (for he admits him 
to have been a little wild in his youth), and then we might have 
judged under what state of mind he adopted the definition. 

For myself, I consider faith, grounded on the phenomena of 
nature (not the faith of sectarianism or fanaticism), as the true 
source and foundation of morality, and morality as the true 
source and foundation of religion. 

No human demonstration can cope with that presented by 
the face of nature. What proof so infallible as that the sun 
produces light, and heat, and vegetation ?* — that the tides ebb 

* The following lines are by the young poetess whom I have before men- 
tioned, and shall again allude to more fully: — 

"The sun is in the empire of his light, 
Throned in the mighty solitude of heaven: 
He seems the visible Omnipotent 
Dwelling in glory : his high sanctuary 
Do the eyes worship, and thereon, as if 



DEM0:5TSTRATI0NS OF A DEITY. 365 

and flow — that the thunder rolls — that the lightning flashes 
— that the planets shine'?* Who can gaze on the vast orb of 
day without feeling that it is the visible demonstration of a 
superior Being, convincing our reason and our senses, and even 
the scanty reason of illiterate savages 1 

It is foreign from the intention of this work to dilate on the- 
oretical subjects of any kind ; suffice it to say that the follow- 
ing are simply my own sentiments, which I must be permitted 
to retain, and which, indeed, nothing on this side the grave 
can shake. 

The omnipotence of the Deity in our creation and destruc- 
tion — in the union and separation of our bodies and souls — 
and in rendering the latter responsible for the acts of the for- 

Impiety to gaze, the senses reel, 

Drunk with the spirit of his deep refulgence. 

Circle of glory! — Diadem of heaven I 

Cast in the mould of bright- eternity, 

And bodying forth the attributes of Him 

'Who made thee of this visible "world supreme, 

And thou becamest a wonder and a praise — 

A worship — yea, a pure idolatry ! 

The image of the glories of our God." 

* The reader may deem it curious to compare the two following para- 
phrases: the first graced with the great name, as author, of Mr. Addison; 
the second the performance of my accomplished young friend, and extracted 
from her commonplace-book, without any opportunity given for revision: — 

"on the planets. 

. *'The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled heavens — a shining frame 1 — 
Their great Original proclaim. 
In Reason's ear they all rejoice. 
And utter forth a glorious voice ; 
For ever singing, as they shine, 
'The hand that made us is divine 1'" 

" Ye living fires in yon eternal dome — 

Ye lamps, whose light is immortality — 

Hung forth in mercy from our Father's house, 

As beacon-lights to guide us to our God ! 

Ye are ordained man's faithful monitors, 

Gazing like heavenly eyes upon our deeds, 

Till Guilt is awed and shrinks beneath your glance. 

Ye bright and visible rewards, held forth 

From God's high sanctuary, to work in us 

A pure ambition for eternal things, 

And glories which our spirit heaves to grasp !" 



366 DEATH OF LOKD KOSSMOEE. 

mer — no Christian denies : and if the Deity be thus omnipo- 
tent in forming, destroying, uniting, separating, and judging, 
he must be equally omnipotent in reproducing that spirit and 
that form which he created, and which remain subject to his 
will, and always in his power. 

It follows, therefore, that the omnipotent Creator may at 
will reproduce that spirit which he reserves for future judg- 
ment, or the semblance of that body which once contained the 
"undecaying soul. The smallest atom which floats in the sun- 
beam can not (as everybody knows), from the nature of matter, 
be actually annihilated : death consequently only decomposes 
the materials w:hereof our bodies are formed, which materials 
are obviously susceptible of being recombined. The Christian 
tenets maintain that the soul and body must appear for judg- 
ment, and why not before judgment — if so willed by the Al- 
mighty ? The main argument which I have heard against 
such appearances tends nearly as much to mislead as a general 
disbelief or denial of omnipotence — namely, that though this 
power may exist in the Deity, he never would permit such spec- 
tacles on the earth, to terrify the timorous, and give occasion 
to paltering with the credulity of his creatures. 

It is truly surprising how rational men can resort to these 
methods of reasoning. When we admit the omnipotence, we 
are bound likewise to admit the omniscience, of the Deity ; 
and presumptuous indeed must that man be who overlooks the 
contractedness of his own intellectual vision, or asserts that, 
because he can not see a reason for a supernatural interference, 
none therefore can exist in the eye of the Supreme. 

The objects of Grod are inscrutable : an appearance of the 
departed upon the earth may have consequences which none — 
7iot even those who are affected by it — can either discover or sup- 
pose.* Can any human wisdom presume to divine why man was 
originally created at all 1 why one man is cut short in high, 
blooming health and youth, and another lingers long in age 

* Nothing in print places my theory in so distinct, clear, and pleasing a 
point of view, as Parnell's "Hermit" — a strong, moral, and impressive tale 
— beautiful in poetry, and abounding in instruction. There the omniscience 
of God is exemplified by human incidents, and the mysterious causes of his 
actions brought home to the commonest capacity. The moral of that short 



BELIEF m STJPERNATUKAL OCCTJERENCES. 367 

and decrepitude ? wliy the Lest of men are frequently tlie most 
unfortunate, and the greatest villains the most prosperous 1 
why. the heinous criminal escapes in triumph, and the innocent 
being is destroyed by torture ? And is the production of a 
supernatural appearance, for the inscrutable purposes of God, 
more extraordinary, or less credible, than these other ordina- 
tions of the Deity, or than all those unaccountable phenomena 
of nature, which are only — as the rising and setting sun — 
disregarded by common minds, from the frequency of their 
occurrence ? 

This is a subject whereon I feel strongly and seriously, and 
hence it is that I have been led into so long an exordium. I 
regard the belief in supernatural apparitions as inseparable 
from my Christian faith and my view of Divine Omnipotence ; 
and however good and learned individuals may possibly im- 
pugn my reasoning, I have the consolation of knowing that 
the very best and wisest doctors in divinity and masters of 
arts in the British empire can have no better or t?'ue?' informa- 
tion upon the subject than myself; that I am as much in my 
senses as many of them ; and that the Deity has made no sort 
of distinction between the intellectual capacity of a bishop 
and a judge : the secrets of heaven are not divulged to either 
of them. The judge does justice to other people, and the 
bishop does justice to himself: both are equally ignorant of 
the mysteries of futurity, and must alike wait until they pass 
the dim boundary of the grave, to gain any ^practical informa- 
tion. When a military captain is ordained a clergyman, as is 
somewhat the fashion during the peace establishment, does he 
become one atom wiser or more knowing as to the next world 

and simple tale says more than a hundred volumes of dogmatic controver- 
sies ! The following couplets appear to me extremely impressive : — 

"The Maker justly claims that world he made : 
In this the right of Providence is laid : 
Its sacred majesty, through all, depends 
On using second means to work its ends. 

"What strange events can strike with more surprise 
Tlian those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? 
Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just; 
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust." 



368 DEATPI OF LOED ROSSMOEE. 

than wlien he was in the army ? Prohahly, on the other hand, 
he thinks much less about the matter than when standing upon 
the field of battle. 

I would not have the reader imagine that I should be found 
ready to receive any idle ghost-story which might be told me. 
So far contrary, I have always been of opinion that no inci- 
dent or appearance (and I have expressed as much before in 
this work), however strange, should be considered as supernat- 
ural which could any how be otherv/ise accounted for, or re- 
ferred to natural or human agency. 

I will proceed at once to the little narrative thus impor- 
tantly prefaced. The circumstances will, I think, be admitted 
as of an extraordinary nature : they were not connected with 
the workings of imagination ; depended not on the fancy of a 
single individual : the occurrence was, altogether, both in its 
character and in its possible application, far beyond the spec- 
ulations 6f man. But let me endeavor to soften and prepare 
my mind for the strange recital by some more pleasing recol- 
lections connected with the principal subject of it. 

Immediately after the rebellion of 1798, the countess dowa- 
ger of Mayo discovered a man concealed under. her bed, and 
was so terrified that she instantly fled from her country resi- 
dence in the most beautiful part of County Wicklow : she 
departed for Dublin, whence she immediately sailed for Eng- 
land, and never after returned. Her ladyship directed her 
agent (Mr. Davis) immediately to dispose of her residence, 
demesne, and everything within the house and on the grounds, 
for whatever they might bring. All property in the disturbed 
districts being then of small comparative value, and there 
having been a battle fought at Mount Kennedy, near her 
house, a short time previous, I purchased the whole estate, as 
it stood, at a very moderate price, and on the ensuing day was 
put into possession of my new mansion. I found a house not 
large, but very neat and in good order, with a considerable 
quantity of furniture, some excellent wines, &c. and the lands 
in full produce. The demesne was not extensive, but delight- 
fully situated in a district whicL, I believe, for the union of 
rural beauties and mild uniformity of climate, i^^ spots can 
excel. 



THE GOLDEN BELT OF LSELAND. 369 

I have already disclaimed all pretensions, as a writer, to tlte 
power of scenic description or imaginary landscape — though 
no person existing is more gratified than myself with the con- 
templation of splendid scenery; in 'saying this, however, I do 
not mean that savage sublimity of landscape — that majestic 
asseniblage of stupendous mountain and roaring cataract — of 
colossal rocks and innumerable precipices — where Nature ap- 
pears to designate to the bear and the eagle, to the boar or 
chamois, those tracts, which she originally created for their 
peculiar accommodation : to the enthusiastic sketcher and the 
high- wrought tourist I yield an exclusive right to those inter- 
esting regions, which are far too sublime for my ordinary pencil. 
I own that I prefer that luxurious scenery where the art and 
industry of man go hand in hand with the embellishments of 
nature, and where Providence, smiling, combines her blessings 
with her ieauties. 

Were I asked to exemplify my ideas of rural, animated, 
cheering landscape, I should say — "My friend, travel! — 
visit that narrow region which we call the golden belt of Ire- 
land ;* explore every league from the metropolis to the meet- 
ing of the waters : journey which way you please, you will 
find the native myrtle and indigenous arbutus, glowing through- 
out the severest winter, and forming the ordinary cottage 
fence. 

The scenery of Wicklow is doubtless on a very minor scale, 
quite unable to compete with the grandeur and immensity of 
continental landscape : even to our own Killarney it is not 
comparable ; but it possesses a genial glowing luxury, whereof 
more elevated scenery is often destitute. It is, besides, in the 
world : its beauties seem alive. It blooms : it blossoms : the 
mellow clim.ate extracts from every shrub a tribute of fragrance 
wherewith the atmosphere is saturated, and through such a 

* That lovely district extends about thirty miles in length, and from four 
to seven in breadth: it commences near Dublin, and ends at a short distance 
beyond Avondale : the soil is generally a, warm gravel, with verdant val- 
leys, bounded by mountains arable to their summits on one side, and by 
the sea upon the other. The gold mine is on a frontier of this district : and 
it is perhaps the most congenial to the growth of trees and shrubs, of any 
spot in the British dominions. 

16* 



370 DEATH OF LOED ROSSMOEE. 

medium does the refreshing rain descend to brighten the hues 
of the evergreens ! 

I frankly admit myself an enthusiast as to that lovely dis- 
trict. In truth, I fear I should have been enthusiastic on many 
points, had not law, the most powerful antidote to that feeling 
interposed to check its growth. 

The site of my sylvan residence, Dunran, was nearly in 
the centre of the golden belt, about fifteen miles from the capi- 
tal ; but owing to the varied nature of the country, it appeared 
far more distant. Bounded by the beautiful glen of the downs, 
at the foot of the magnificent Eellevue, and the more distant 
sugar-loaf mountain called the Dangle, together with Tynne- 
hinclt (less celebrated for its unrivalled scenery than as the 
residence of Ireland's first patriot), the dark deep glen, the 
black lake and mystic vale of Lugelough, contrasted quite 
magically with the highly-cultivated beauties of Dunran : (the 
parks, and wilds, and sublime cascade of Powerscourt, and 
the newly-created magnificence of Mount Kennedy, abundantly 
prove that perfection itself may exist in contrasts ) : in fine I 
found myself enveloped by the hundred beauties of that en- 
chanting district, which, though of one family, were rendered 
yet more attractive by the variety of their features : and had 
I not been tiqd to laborious duties, I should infallibly have 
sought refuge there altogether from the cares of the, world. 

One of the greatest pleasures I enjoyed while resident at 
Dunran, was the near abode of the late Lord Rossmore, at that 
time commander-in-chief in Ireland. His lordship knew my 
father, and, from my commencement in public life, had been 
my friend, aiid a sincere one. He was a Scotsman born, but 
had come to Ireland when very young, as page to the lord- 
lieutenant. He had married an heiress ; had purchased the 
estate of Mount Kennedy ; built a noble mansion ; l^aid out 
some of the finest gardens in Ireland ; and, in fact, improved 
the demesne, as far as taste, skill, and money, could accom- 
plish. He was what may be called a remarbably fine old 
man, quite the gentleman, and when at Mount Kennedy quite 
the country gentleman, . He lived in a style few people can 
^tt3,Jii tp ; hi§ table, supplied by his own farms, were adapted 



EXTEAORDINAEY SUPERNATUEAL INCIDENT. 371 

to tlie viceroy himself, yet was ever spread for his neighbors : 
in a word, no man ever kept a more even hand in society, than 
Lord E-ossmore, and no man was ever better repaid by nni- 
versal esteem. Had his connections possessed his understand- 
ing, and practised his habits, they would probably have found 
raore friends when they wanted them. 

This intimacy at Mount Kennedy gave rise to an occurrence 
the most extraordinary and inexplicable of my whole existence 
— an occurrence which for many years occupied my thoughts, 
and wrought on my imagination. Lord Rossmore was ad- 
vanced in years, but' I never heard of his having had a single 
day's ijadispositioii. He bore, in his green old age, the ap- 
pearance of robust health. During the viceroyalty of Earl 
Hardwick, Lady Barrington, at a drawing-room at Dublin cas- 
tle, met Lord Eossmore. He had been making up one of his 
weekly parties, for Mount Kennedy, to commence the next 
day, and had sent down orders for every preparation to be 
made. The lord-lieutenant was to be of the company. 

" My little farmer," said he to Lady Barrington, addressing 
her by a pet name, " when you go home, tell Sir Jonah that 
no business is to prevent him from bringing you down to dine 
with me to-marrow. I will have no ifs in the matter — so tell 
him that come he must ./" She promised positively, and on 
her return informed me of her engagement, to which I at once 
agreed. We retired to our chamber about twelve ; and toward 
two in the morning, I was awakened by a sound of a very ex- 
traordinary nature. I listened ; it occurred first at short inter- 
vals ; it resembled neither a voice nor an instrument ; it was 
softer than any voice and wilder than any music, and seemed 
to float in the air. I don't know wherefore, but my heart beat 
forcibly :' the sound became still more plaintive, till it almost 
died away in the air ; when a sudden change, as if excited by 
a pang, changed its tone : it seemed descending. I felt every 
nerve tremble; it was not a natural '^oVixA, nor could I make 
out the point whence it came. 

At length I awakened Lady Barrington, who heard it as 
well as myself; she suggested that it might be an Eolian harp 
— but to that instrument it bore no similitude : it was altogeth- 



372 DEATH OF LOKB EOSSMOEE. 

er a different character of sound. My wife at first appeared 
less affected than I ; but subsequently slie was more so. 

We now went to a large windov*^ in our bedroom whicli 
looked directly upon a small garden underneath : the sound 
seemed then obviously to ascend from a grass-plot immediately 
below our window. It continued ; Lady Barrington requested 
that I would call up her maid, which I did, and she was evi- 
dently more affected than either of us. The sounds lasted for 
more than half an hour. At last a deep, heavy, throbbing sigh 
seemed to issue from the spot, and was shortly succeeded by 
a sharp but low cry, and by the distinct exclamation, thrice 
repeated, of " Rossmore — E,ossmore — E,ossmore !" I will not 
attempt to describe my own feelings ; indeed I can not. The 
maid fled in terror from the window, and it was with difficulty 
I prevailed on Lady Barrington to return to bed; in about a 
minute after, the sound died gradually away, until all was 
silent. 

Lady Barrington, who is not so superstitious as I, attributed 
this circumstance to a hundred different causes, and made me 
promise that I would not mention it next day at Mount Ken- 
nedy, since we should be thereby rendered laughing-stocks. 
At length, wearied with speculations, we fell into a sound 
slumber. 

About seven the ensuing morning a strong rap at. my cham- 
ber door awakened me. The recollection of the past night's 
adventure rushed instantly upon my mind, and rendered me 
very unfit to be taken suddenly on any subject. It was light : 
I went to the door, when my faithful servant, Lawler, ex- 
claimed on the other side, "Oh Lord, sir!" — "What is the 
matter?" said I, hurriedly: "Oh, sir !" ejaculated he, "Lord 
Rossmore's footman was running past the door in gi'eat haste, 
and told me in passing that my lord, after coming from the 
castle, had gone to bed in perfect health, but that about half 
after two this morning, his own man hearing a noise in his 
master's bed (he slept in the same room), went to him, and 
found him in the agonies of death ; and before he could alarm 
the other servants, all was over !" 

I conjecture nothing. I only relate the incident as unequiv- 



LADY morgan's " WILD lUISH GIKL.'' oiS 

ocally matter of Jact ; Lord Rossmore was absolutely dying at- 
the ^noment I Jieard Ms name pronounced. Let skeptics draw 
tlieir own conclusions ; perhaps natural causes may be assigned ; 
Lut 1 am totally unecjual to the task.' 

Atheism may ridicule me : Orthodoxy may despise me : 
Bigotry may lecture me : Fanaticism might hum me : yet in 
my very faith I would seek consolation. It is in my mind 
better to believe too much than too little, and that is the only 
theological crime of which I can be fairly accused. 
!:]\m,/^CKA^. Ty^-crvy (Ma^^^^^ (fS^fU.^^^ /§^.^*% 






«^ i^'s^t--'!*- 



1 



MEMOEANDA CElflOA. 



Remarks on Lady Morgan's Novel of " The Wild Irish Girl," &c. — Prince O'Sullivan at 
Killamey — Miss Edgworth's '• Castle Rackrent" — Memoir of Jonathan Clerk — " Florence 
Macartliy" — Comparison between Lady Morgan and Thomas Moore as Writers — The 
Author's Knowledge of Both — " Cnptain Rock" condemned — The " Irish Melodies" by 
Moore and Power — The Harmonizing of Tliem by Sir John Stevenson injurious to the 
National Music — Anecdote of Mr. Thomas Moore and Mrs. K . . , y. 

It is remarkable that the state of the Irish people, in its 
various gradations of habit and society, has been best illustrated 
by two female authors, the one of more imaginative, the other 
of purer narrative powers : but each, in her respective lines, pos- 
sessing very considerable merit. 

Though a fiction, not free from numerous inaccuracies inap- 
jDropriate dialogue, and forced incident, it is impossible to 
peruse the " Wild Irish Girl," of Lady Morgan without deep 
interest, or to dispute its claims as a production of true national 
feeling as well as literary talent. 

The tale Avas the first and is perhaps the best of all her wri- 
tings. Compared Avith her " Ida of Athens," it strikingly ex- 
hibits the amtliov^ sjalli?ig of from the unsophisticated dictates 
of nature to the less-refined conceptions induced by what she 
herself styles fashionable society. 

To persons unacquainted with Ireland, the " Wild Irish 
Girl" may appear an ordinary tale of romance and fancy : but 
to such as understand the ancient history of that people, it 
may be considered as a delightful legend. The authoress 



374 MEMOEANDA CRITIC A. 

might perhaps have had somewhat in view the List descendant 
of the Irish princes, who did not altogether forget the station 
of his forefathers. 

O'Sullivan, lineally descended from the king of the lakes, 
not many years since vegetated on a retired spot of his hered- 
itary dominions at Killarney ; and, though overwhelmed hy 
poverty and deprivation, kept up in his mind a visionary dig- 
nity. Surveying from his wretched cottage that enchanting 
territory over which his ancestors had reigned for centuries, I 
have been told 'he never ceased to recollect his royal descent. 
He was a man of gigantic stature and strength ; of uncouth, yet 
authoritative mien — not shaming his pretensions by his pres- 
ence. He was frec[uently visited by those who went to view 
the celebrated lakes, and I have conversed with many who 
have seen him : but at a period when familiar intercourse has 
been introduced between actual princes and their subjects, 
tending undoubtedly to diminish in the latter the sense of 
" that divinity which doth hedge a king," the poor descendant 
of that renowned O'Sullivan had no reason to expect much 
commiseration from modern sensibility. 

The frequent and strange revolutions of the world within the 
last forty years — ^the radical alterations in all the material 
habits of society — announced the commencement of a new 
era : and the ascendency of commerce over rank, and of ava- 
rice over everything, completed the regeneration. But, above 
all, the loosening of those ties which bound kindred and fami- 
lies, in one common interest, to uphold their race and name — 
the extinction of that spirit of chivalry which sustained those 
ties — and the common prostitution of the heraldic honors of 
antiquity — have steeled the human mind against the lofty and 
noble pretensions of birth and rank ; and while we superficially 
decry the principle of equality, we are travelling toward them 
by the shortest a,nd most dangerous road that degeneracy and 
meanness can point out. 

I confess myself to be a determined enemy at once to politi- 
cal and social equality. In the exercise of justice alone should 
the principle exist ; in any other sense, it never did and never 
can, for any length of time. 



LADY MORGAN AND MISS EDGEWORTII. 3 75 

Miss Edgewortli's " Oastle Rackrent" and "Fashionable. 
Tales" are incomjDarable in depicting truly several traits of 
tlie ratlier modern Irish character : they are perhaps on one 
point somewhat overcharged ; but, fcJr the most part, may be 
said to exceed Lady Morgan's Irish novels. The fiction is less 
perceptible in them : they have a greater air of reality — of 
what I have myself often and often observed and noted in full 
progress and actual execution throughout my native country. 
The landlord, the agent, and the attorney, of "Castle Hack- 
rent" (in fact, every person it describes) are neither fictitious 
nor even uncommon characters : and the changes of landed 
property in the country where I was born (where perhaps they 
have prevailed to the full as widely as in any other of the Uni- 
ted Empire) owed, in nine cases out of ten, their origin, prog- 
ress, and catastrophe, to incidents in no wise differing from 
those so accurately painted in Miss Edgeworth's narrative. 

Though moderate fortunes have frequently and fairly been 
realized by agents, yet, to be on the sure side of comfort and 
security, a country-gentleman who wishes to send down his 
estate in tolerably good order to his family should always be 
his own receiver, and compromise any claim rather than employ 
an attorney to arrange it. 

I recollect to have seen in Queen's county a Mr. Clerk, who 
had been a working carpenter; and, when making a bench for 
the session-justices at the courthouse, was laughed at for taking 
peculiar pains in planing and smoothing the seat of it. He 
smilingly observed that he did so to make it easy for himself^ 
as he was resolved he would never die till he had a right to 
sit thereupon : and he kept his word. He was an industrious 
man, and became an agent ; honest, respectable, and kind- 
hearted, he succeeded in all his efforts to accumulate an inde- 
pendence : he did accumulate it, and uprightly ; his character 
kept pace with the increase of his property, and he lived to sit 
as a magistrate on that very bench that he sawed and planed. 

I will not quit the subject without saying a word about an- 
other of Lady Morgan's works — " Florence Macarthy," which, 
" errors excepted," possesses an imHiensity of talent in the de- 
lineation of the genuine Irish character. The different judges 



376 MEMOllAJN'DA CEITICA. 

no one can mistake ; but tlie CraAvleys are superlative, and 
suffice to bring before my vision, in their full coloring, and al- 
most without a variation, persons and incidents whom and 
which I have many times encountered. Nothing is exagger- 
ated as to them ; and Crawley himself is the perfect and plain 
model of the combined agent, attorney, and magistrate — a sort 
of mongrel functionary whose existence I have repeatedly rep- 
robated, and whom I pronounce to be at this moment the great- 
est nuisance and mischief experienced by my unfortunate coun- 
try, and only to be abated by the residence of the great land- 
lords on their estates. No people under heaven could be so 
easily tranq^uillized and governed as the Irish ; but that desi- 
rable end is alone attainable by the personal endeavors of a 
liberal, humane, and resident aristocracy. 

A third writer on Ireland I allude to with more pride on 
some points, and v»dth less pleasure on others ; because, though 
dubbed, jpar excellence, " The bard of Ireland," I have not yet 
seen many literary productions of his, especially on national 
subjects, that have afforded me an unalloyed feeling of grati- 
fication. 

He must not be displeased with the observations of perhaps 
a truer friend than those who have led him to forget himself. 
His " Captain Rock" (though, I doubt not, well intended), 
coming at the time it did, and under the sanction of his name, 
is the m^ost exceptionable publication, in all its bearings as to 
Ireland, that I have yet seen. Doctor Beattie says, in his 
"Apology for Religion," "if it does no good, it can do no 
harm ;" but, on the contrary, if " Captain Eock" does no harm, 
it can certainly do no good. 

Had it been addressed to, or calculated for, the better or- 
ders, the book would have been less noxious : but it is not cal- 
culated to instruct those whose influence, example, or residence, 
could either amend or reform the abuses which the author cer- 
tainly exaggerates. It is not calculated to remedy the great 
and true cause of Irish ruin — the absenteeism of the great 
landed proprietors : so much the reverse, it is directly adapted 
to increase and confirm the real grievance, by scaring every 
landlord who retains a sense of personal danger (and I know 



THOMAS MOOEE AND LADY MOKGAIT. 377 

none of them who are exempt from abundance of it) from re- 
turning to a country where " Captain Rock" is p7-oclaimed by 
" the hard of Ireland" to he an immortal sovereign. The work 
is, in fact, a warm effusion of party, not a firm remonstrance 
of patriotism. It is a work better fitted for vulgar eclat than 
for rational approbation. Its effects were not calculated on ; 
and it appears to me, in itself, to offer one of the strongest ar- 
guments against bestowing on the lower orders in Ireland the 
power of reading. 

Perhaps I write warmly myself : I write not, however, for 
distracted cottagers, but for proprietors and legislators ; and I 
have endeavored honestly to express my unalterable convic- 
tion that it is by encouraging, conciliating, reattaching, and 
recalling the higher, and not by confusing and inflaming the 
lower orders of society, that Ireland can be renovated. 

Most undoubtedly Mr. Thomas Moore and Lady Morgan are 
among the most distinguished modern writers of our country : 
indeed, I know of none (except Miss Edgeworth) who has at 
present a right to compete with either, in his or her respective 
department. 

But I can never repeat too often that I am not a, critic, al- 
though I choose, to speak my mind strongly and freely. I 
hope neither my friend Moore nor her ladyship will be dis- 
pleased at my stating thus candidly my opinion of their pub- 
lic characters : they v/ould perhaps scout me as an adulator 
were I to tell them what I thought of their private ones. I 
dare say some of the periodical-writers will announce that my 
telling the world I am a very inefficient critic is a mere work 
of supererogation. At any rate, it must be owned that making 
.the confession in advance is to the full as creditable as leaving 
the thing to be stated for me. 

In concluding my rambling estimate of the merits of these 
two justly-celebrated authors, let me bear in mind that they 
are of different sexes, and recollect the peculiar attributes of 
cither. 

Both of them are alike unsparing in their use of the bold 
language of liberty : but Lady Morgan has improved her ideas 
of freedom by contrasts on the European continent ; while 



378 MEMORANDA CRITICA.' 

Thomas Moore has not improved liis by the exemplification of 
freedom in America. Lady Morgan has succeeded in adulter- 
ating her refinement ; Thomas Moore unsuccessfully endeav- 
ored to refine his grossness. She has abundant talent ; he has 
abundant genius : and whatsoever distinction those terms ad- 
mit of, indicates, in my mind, their 7-elative merit. This allow- 
ance, however, must be made — that the lady has contented 
herself with invoking only substantial beings and things of 
this sublunary world, while the gentleman has ransacked both 
heaven and hell, and " the half-way house," for figurative as- 
sistance. 

I knew them both before they had acq[uired any celebrity, 
and after they had attained to much. I esteemed them then, 
and have no reason to disesteem them now : it is on their own 
account that I wish some of the compositions of both had never 
appeared ; and I really believe, upon due consideration, they 
will themselves be of my way of thinking. 

I recollect Moore being one night at my house in Merrion 
square, during the spring of his celebrity, touching the piano- 
forte, in his own unique way, to " Eosa," his favorite amatory 
sonnet ; his head leant back ; now throwing up his ecstatic 
eyes to heaven, as if to invoke refinement — then casting them 
softly sidewise, and breathing out his chromatics to elevate, as 
the ladies said, their souls above the world, but at the same 
moment convincing them that they were completely mortal. 

A Mrs. K . . . y, a lady then d^age mur, but moving in the 
best society of Ireland, sat on a chair behind Moore : I watched 
her profile : her lips quavered in unison with the piano ; a sort 
of amiable convulsion, now and then raising the upper from 
the under lip, composed a smile less pleasing than expressive ; 
her eye softened, glazed — and half-melting she whispered to 
herself the following words, which I, standing at the back of 
her chair, could not avoid hearing: — "Dear, dear!" lisped 
Mrs. K . . . y, " Moore, this is not^w- the good of my soul T^ 

Almost involuntarily, I ejaculated in the same low tone — 
" What is not, Mrs. K . . . y ?" 

"You know well enough!" she replied (but without blush- 
ing, as people used to do formerly), " how can you ask so silly 



MOOEE's IRISH MELODIES. 379 

a question 1" and slie turned into tlie crowd, but never came 
near the piano again tliat niglit. 

I greatly admire the national, indeed patriotic idea, of col- 
lecting and publishing the Irish Melodies ; and it were to be 
wished that some of them had less the appearance of having 
been written ^er annum* 

Sir John Stevenson, that celebrated warbler, has melodized 
a good many of these ; but certainly has also melo- dramatized 
a considerable portion of them. I think our rants and planxties 
would have answered just as well without either symphonies or 
chromatics, and that the plaintive national music of Ireland 
does not reach the ^heart a moment the sooner for passing 
through a mob of scientific variations. Tawdry and modern 
upholstery would not be very appropriate to the ancient tower 
of an Irish chieftain ; and some of Sir John's proceedings in 
melodizing simplicity, remind me of the Rev. Mark Hare, who 
whitewashed the great rock of Cashell to give it a genteel 
appearance against the visitation. 

As I do not attempt (I suppose I ought to say presume) to be 
a literary, so am I far less a musical critic : but I know what 
pleases myself, and in that species of criticism I can not be 
expected to yield. to anybody. 

As to my own authorship, I had business more important 
than writing books in my early life : but noAV, in my old days, 
it is my greatest amusement, and nothing would give me more 
satisfaction than hearing the free remarks of the critics on my 
productions. 

* I allude to the public trial as to copyright, by Mr. Power, when it was 
stated that Mr. Moore wrote the Melodies for so much a year. They are 
certainly very unequal. 



380 MEMOEAJ^DA POETICA. 



MEMOEANDA POETICA. 

Poets and Poetasters— Major Roche's Extraordinary Poem on the Battle of Waterloo — 
"Tears of the British Muse" — French CUmax of Lovt) — A Man's Age discovered by his 
Poetry — Evils of a Motto — Amorous Feelings of Youth — Love Verses of a Boy ; of a 
Young Man — " Loves of the Angels"— Dinner Verses of an Oxonian — "The Highlander," 
a Poem — Extracts from the Poetical Manuscripts of Miss T . . . n, &c. 

There can not be a juster aphorism tlian " Poeta nascitur, 
non fit;" the paucity of those literary productions which 
deserve the epithet of poetry, compared with the thousand 
volumes of what rhyming authors call poems, forms a conclu- 
sive illustration. 

A true foet lives for ever ; a poetaster^ just till another re- 
lieves him in the circulating libraries, or on the toilets of young 
ladies — used to keep them awake at night and send them to 
sleep in the morning. 

There may possibly be three degrees of excellence in true 
poetry, but certainly no more. A fourth-rate jpoet must be, in 
my idea, a mere forger of rhymes ; a manufacturer of versifi- 
cation ; but if he minds his prosody, and writes in a style 
either vastly interesting, immensely tender, or delightfully 
luxurious, he will probably find readers am^ong the fair sex 
from fifteen to forty -five. 

Major Eoche, an Irishman, who, in 1815, printed and pub- 
lished at Paris a full and true hexameter account of the great 
battle of Waterloo, with his own portrait emblazoned in the 
front, and the duke of Wellington's in the rear, must certainly 
be held to exceed in ingenuity all the poets and poetasters 
great and small of the present generation. 

The alphabetical printed list of subscribers to his work set 
forth the name of every emperor, king, prince, nobleman, gen- 
eral, minister, and diplomatist — Russian, Prussian, Austrian, 
German, Dutch, English, Irish, Don, Cossack, &c., &c. Such 
an imperial, royal, and every way magnificent list was never 
before, nor ever will be again, appended to any poem, civil, 
political, military, religious, or scientific : and as the major 
thought very truly that a book so patronized and garnished 



WELLINGTON AS MAES ON" HORSEBACK. 381 

must be worth at least fifty times as much as any other poem 
of the same dimensions, he stated that " a few copies might still 
be procured at tivo guineas each." He succeeded admirably, 
and I believe got more money at Paris than any one of the 
army did at Waterloo. 

His introduction of the duke of Wellington was well worth 
the money ; he described his grace as Mars on horseback 
(new !) riding helter-skelter, and charging fiercely over every- 
thing in his headlong course ; friends and foes, men, women, 
and children, having no chance of remaining perpendicular if 
they crossed his way ; his horse's hoofs striking flames of fire 
even out of the regim^ental buttons of the dead bodies which 
he galloped over ! while swords, muskets, spears, and cuirasses, 
pounded down by his trampling steed, formed as it were a 
turnpike road, whereupon he seemed to fly in his endeavors to 
catch Bonaparte. 

I really think Major Roche's idea of making Lord Welling- 
ton Mars, was a much better one than that of making him 
Achilles, as they have done at Hyde Park corner. Paris 
found out the weak point of Achilles, and finished him : but 
Mars is immortal; and though Diomed knocked him down, 
neither his carcass nor character is a jot the worse. Besides, 
though Achilles killed Hector, it was not Lord Wellington 
who killed Bonaparte. 

A remark of mine which, though of no value, is, however, 
rather a curious one, I can not omit — namely, that every man 
who has been in the habit of scribbling rhyme of any descrip- 
tion, involuntarily betrays his age by the nature of his com- 
position. The truth of this observation I will endeavor to 
illustrate by quotations from some jingling couplets written at 
different periods of life by a friend of mine, merely to show the 
strange and gradual transitions and propensities of the human 
mind from youth to maturity, and from maturity to age. I 
was brought up at a school where poetry was cultivated, 
whether the soil would bear a crop or not: I early got, how- 
ever, somehow or other, an idea of wliat it was, which boys in 
general at that age never think of. But I had no practical 
genius, and never set for it. Our second master, the son of 



382 MEMORANDA POETIC A. 

the principal one, was a parson, and as lie tlioiiglit, a poet, and 
wrote a thing called " The Tears of the British Muse," which 
we were all obliged to purchase, and repeat once a month. 
In fact, of all matters, prosody was most assiduously whipped 
into us. 

Love is the first theme of all the poets in the world. 
Though the French do not understand that matter a bit better 
than other folks, yet their language certainly expresses amatory 
ideas far more comprehensively than ours. In talking of love 
they do not speak of refinement : I never knew a Frenchwoman 
tie them together fast : their terms of gradation are — l'amour 
natural, Men sensible, tres fort, a son gout, superhe ; forming the 
climax with p(^s necessaire encore : this classing of the passion 
with the palate, is certainly a very simple mode of defining 
one of its varieties. 

The state of the feelings and propensities of men is regulated 
by the amount of their years (ladies in general stick to their 
text longest). In early youth, poetry flows from natural sen- 
sations ; and at this period verses in general have much mod- 
esty, much feeling, *and a visible struggle to keep in with 
refinement. 

In the next degree of age, which runs quite close upon the 
former, the scene nevertheless sadly alters. We then see plain 
amatory sonnets turning poor refinement out of' company, and 
showing that it was not so very pure as we had reason to sup- 
pose. Next comes that stage wherein sensualists, wits, ballad- 
singers, gourmands, experienced lovers, and most kinds of 
poetasters, male and female, give their varieties. All the 
organs of craniology swell up in the brain and begin to prepare 
themselves for development : this is rather a lasting stage, and 
gently glides into, and amalgamates with the final one, filled 
by satirists, psalmists, epigrammatists, and other specimens of 
antiquity and ill-nature. But I fancy this latter must be a 
very unproductive line of versification for the writer, as few 
ladies ever read such things till after they begin to wear spec- 
tacles. Few persons like to see themselves caricatured ; and 
the moment a lady is convinced that she ceases to be an object 
of love, she fancies that, as matter of course, she at once be- 



EYILS OF A MOTTO — LOYe's TOUXG DKEAISI. 383 

comes an object of ridicule : so tliat slie takes care to run no 
chance of reading to her own mortification, till she feels that it 
is time to commence devotee. 

I recollect a friend of mine writing a poem of satire so gen- 
eral, that eYerybody might attribute it to their neighbors, 
without taking it to themselYCS. The first edition having gone 
off well, he published a second, announcing improvements, and 
giving as a motto the words of Hamlet : — 

"To hold as 'twere the mirror up to jSTature." 

This motto was fatal ; the idea of the mirror condemned the 
book : nobody would venture to look into it : and the entire 
impression is, I dare say, in the act of rotting on the booksel- 
ler's shelves at the present moment. 

Oh ! that delicious dream of life, when age is too far distant 
to be seen, and childhood fast receding from our vision ! when 
nature pauses briefly between refinement and sensuality — 
first imparting to our wondering senses what we are and what 
we shall be, before she consigns us to the dangerous guar- 
dianship of chance and of our passions. 

That is the crisis when lasting traits of character begin to 
bud and blossom, and acquire sap ; and every effort should 
then be made to crop and prune, and train the young shoots, 
while yet they retain the principle of ductility. 

During that period the youth is far too charry to avow a 
passion which he does not fully comprehend, satisfied with 
making known his feelings by delicate allusions, and thus 
contriving to disclose the principle without mentioning its 
existence. All sorts of pretty sentimentalities are employed 
to this end : shepherds and shepherdesses are pressed into the 
service; as are likewise tropes of Arcadian happiness and 
simplicity, with abundance of metaphorical roses with thorns 
to them — perfumes and flowers. 

A particular friend of mine, nearly as well known to me as 
myself, and who, when a young man, had a great propensity 
to fall in love and make verses accordingly, has often told me 
his whole progress in both, and says positively that he should 
ascertain in a moment a man's decimal from his versification. 



384 MEMORANDA rOETICA. ' 

He entertained me one morning by showing me certain memo- 
randums whicb. lie had from time to time made upon this sub- 
ject, and from which he permitted me to take extracts, as also 
from some of his own effusions which he said he had kept out 
of curiosity. 

It appears that at the age of fifteen he fell in love with a 
Miss Lyddy St. John, who was herself a poetess of fourteen, 
and the most delicate young Celestial he had ever seen. The 
purity of her thoughts and verses filtered all his sentiments as 
clear as spring-water, and did not leave an atom of grossness 
in the whole body of them. 

Before he left school he wrote the following lines on this 
young lady, which he had suffered to stand as the poetical 
illustration of his boyhood. 

L 

"What sylph that flits athwart the air, 
Or hovers rounds its favorite fair, 
Can Daint such charms to fancy's eye, 

Or feebly trace 

The unconscious grace 
Of her for whom I sigh ? 

n. 

"As silver flakes of falling snow 
Tell the pure sphere from whence they flow, 
So the chaste beauties of her eye 

Faintly impart 

The chaster heart 
Of her for whom I sigh." 

Lyddy, however, objected to the last line of each stanza, as 
she did not understand what he meant by sighing for her ; and 
he not being able to solve the question, she seemed to entertain 
rather a contempt for his intellect, and palpably gave the 
preference to one of his schoolfellows — a holder boy. 

In the next stage toward maturity the poet and lover began 
to know better what he was about; and determined to pay a 
visit to the fair one, and try if any circumstance might give 
him a delicate opportunity of disclosing his sentiments and suf- 
ferings. . 

He unfortunately found that the innocent cause of his tor- 
ment had gone on a tour, and that his interview must be ad- 



A POET-LOYEE A LAMENTATION. 385 

journed sine die. However, lie explored the garden ; sat down 
in all the arbors ; walked pensively over the flower-plots ; 
peeped into her chamber-window, which was on the ground- 
floor, and embroidered with honeysuckles and jessamine : his 
very soul swelled with thoughts of love and rurah retirement : 
and thus his heart, as it were, burst open, and let out a gush 
of poetry, which he immediately committed to writing in the 
garb of a lamentation for the fair one's absence, and forced 
under the window-frame of her bedchamber ; after which he 
disconsolately departed, though somewhat relieved by this 
efibrt of his muse. The words ran thus : — 

"lamentation of croxeroe for the absence of its sylvan nymph. 



"Ah, where has she wandered ? ah, where has she strayed? 
What clime now possesses otir lost sylvan maid? — 
No myrtle now blossoms ; no tulips will blow ; 
And the lively arbutus now fades at Croneroe. 

IL 

"j^o glowing carnation now waves round her seat; 
Nor crocus nor cowslip weave turf for her feet ; 
And the woodbine's soft tendrils, once trained by her hand, 
Now wild round her arbor distractedly stand. 

in. 
"Her golden-elothed fishes now deaden their hue; 
The birds cease to warble — the wood-dove to coo; 
The cypress spreads wide, and the willow droops low, 
And the noon's brightest ray can't enliven Croneroe. 

IV. 

"In the low-winding glen, all embosomed in green. 
Where the thrush courts her muse, and the blackbird is seen, 
The rill as it flows, limpid, silent, and slow. 
Trickles down the gray rock as the tears of Croneroe ! 

v. 

"Then return, sylvan maid, and the flowers will all spi'ing, 
And the wood-dove will coo, and the linnet will sing — 
The goldfish will sparkle, the silver streams flow, 
And the noon-ray shine bright through the glen of Croneroe.'* 

Nothing very interesting occurred for above two months to 
our amorous lyrist, when he began to tire of waiting for the 
nymph of Croneroe, and grew fond of one of his own cousins, 
without being able to give any very particular reason for it, 
further than that he was becoming more and more enlightened 

17 



386 MEMORANDA POETIC A. 

in tlie ways of tlie world. But this family flame soon burnt 
itself out ; and he next fell into a sort of furious passion for a 
fine, strong, ruddy country-girl, the parson's daughter. She 
was a capital housekeeper, and the parson himself a jolly 
hunting-fellow. At his house there was a good table, and a 
hearty style of joking — Avhich advantages, together with a 
walk in the shrubbery, a sillabub under the cow, and a romp 
in the haymaking field, soon sent poor refinement about its 
business. The poet became absolutely mortal, and began to 
write common hexameters. However, before he was confirmed 
in his mortality, he happened one day to mention a syljfh to his 
new sweetheart. She merely replied that she never saw one, 
and asked her mamma privately what it was, who desired her 
never to mention sucli a loord again. 

But by the time he set out for Oxford, he had got tolerably 
well quit of all his ethereal visions, celestials, and snowdrops : 
and to convince his love what an admiration he had for sensi- 
ble, substantial beauty, like hers, he wrote the following lines 
in a blank leaf of her prayer-book, which she had left in his 
way as if suspecting his intention : — 

"Refinement's a very nice thing in its way, 
And so is platonic regard : 
Melting sympathy too — as the highflyers say — 

Is the only true theme for a bard. 
Then give them love's phantoms and flights for their pains; 
But grant me, ye gods! flesh and Mood mid blue veins, 
And dear Dolly — dear Dolly Haynes. 

n. 
" I like that full fire and expression of eyes, 
"Where love's true material presides; 
With a glance now and then to the jellies and pies, 

To insnre us good living besides. 
Ye refiners, take angels and sylphs for your pains; 
But grant me, ye gods ! flesh and blood and bine veins, 
And dear Dolly — dear Dolly Haynes !" 

I should not omit mentioning here an incident which at the 
time extremely amused me. A friend of mine, a barrister, 
whose extravagant ideas of refinement have frequently proved 
source of great entertainment to me, was also a most enthusi- 
astic admirer of Mr. Thomas Moore's writings, prose and verse. 



"loves of the angels." 387 

I read over to liim the foregoing rather " of the earth, earthy"- 
composition, to which he listened with a shrug of the shouklers 
and a contraction of the upper lip ; and I was desirous of draw- 
ing out his opinion thereon by adverting to his own favorite 
bard. 

" Here," said I, " we have a fine illustration of the natural 
progress from refinement to sensuality — the amalgamation of 
which principles is so beautifully depicted by Mr. Thomas 
Moore in his * Loves of the Angels.' " 

" Your observation is just," replied my friend. " I can not 
conceive why those elegant amours have been so much carped 
at — since their only object is to prove that flesh and blood is 
in very high estimation even with the spirituals." 

"What a triumph to mortality !" replied I. 

'' And why," continued he, " should people be so very skep- 
tical as. to the autlienticity oi these angelic love-matches'? — 
Surely there are no negative proofs, and are we not every day 
told by the gravest authorities that we are bound at our peril 
to believe divers matters not an atom more intelligible % For 
my part, I can't comprehend why a poet should not be as 
credible a witness as a bishop on matters that are eq[ually and 
totally invisible to both of them," 

" True/' observed I, smiling ; " and the more so as poets, 
generally residing nearer the sky than any other members of 
society, are likely to get better information." 

"Ay, poor fellows, 'on compulsion!' " said my friend, with 

a compassionate sigh. " But," resumed he, falling in with my 

tone of raillery, " there is one point which I could have wished 

that our most, melodious of lyrists had cleared up to my satis- 

' faction — videlicit, ^hs^i gender angels really are of." 

" Very little doubt, by logical reasoning, need exist upon 
that point," answered I ; " Mr. Moore represents his angels in 
the characters of gay deceivers j and those characters being 
performed by the male sex, ergo, angels must be males. You 
perceive the syllogism is complete." 

" Ay, ay," said my friend ; " but how comes it; then, that 
when we see a beautiful woman, we cry out involuntarily, 
* What an angel ./' " 



388 MEMOKANDA POETICA. 

" The word Jiomo signiiies either man or woman," replied I ; 
" give a similar latitude to the word angel, and you have your 
choice of sexes ! Divers of the classics, and some of the sculp- 
tors, perfectly authorize Mr. Moore's delicious ambiguity." 

" That," said my Moorish friend, " is certainly the fact, and 
most elegantly has our lyrist handled this question of celestial 
sexuality : he has paid the highest compliment ever yet con- 
ceived to human beauty, by asserting that ethereal spirits, in- 
stead of taking up with their own transparent species, prefer 
the opaque body-coloring of terrestrial dairy-maids — though 
fastidious casuists may, perhaps, call that a depraved taste." 

*' No such thing," replied I ; "it is rather a proof of refined 
and filtered epicurism. The heathen mythology is crammed 
with precedents on that point. Every god and goddess in for- 
mer times (and the sky was then quite crowded with them — ") 

" And may be so still," interrupted my friend, " for anything 
we know to the contrary." 

" They played their several pranks upon our globe," contin- 
ued I, " without the slightest compunction : even Jupiter him- 
self frequently became a trespasser on the honor and peace of 
several very respectable fleshly families. The distinction be- 
tween the spiritual and corporeal is likewise dexterously 
touched on by the dramatist Farquhar, who makes one of his 
characters* exclaim to another, " I'll take her body, you her 
Tnind — which has the better bargain?" 

" But," rejoined my friend, " modern sentiment, which brings 
all these matters into collision, had not then been invented: 
now we can have both in one lot." 

Finally, we determined to consult Mr. Thomas Moore him- 
self upon this most interesting consideration, agreeing that 
nobody could possibly understand such a refined subject so 
well as the person who wrote a book about it. We therefore 
proceeded (as I shall now do) to the next stage of years and 
of poetry. 

The poet and lover was soon fixed at the university, where 
he shortly made fast acquaintance Avith a couple of hot young 
Irishmen, who lost no time in easing him of the dregs of his 
* Archer, in " The Beaux' Stratagem." 



DINNEE-YEESES OF AN OXONIAN. 389 

sentimentality, and convinced him clearlj that no rational man 
should ever be in love except when he is drunk, in which case 
it signifies little whom he falls in love with. Thus our youth 
soon forgot the parsonage, and grew -enamored of the bottle : 
but having some lees of poetry still remaining within him, the 
classics and the wine set them a fermenting : and he now wrote 
drinking-songs, hunting-songs, boating-songs, satires on the 
shopkeepers' daughters, and lampoons on the fellows of Jesus 
and Brazen-nose colleges ; ansAvered letters in verse, and, in a 
word, turned out what the lads call a genius. 

The reverend private tutor of these young Irishmen wrote 
one day a letter to our poet in verse, inviting him to " meet at 
dinner a few fellow-countrymen, just arrived." The tutor was 
a hard-going old parson, fond of wine and versification, who 
had been sent over from Ireland by the father of the two young 
men above alluded to, with direction to " take care that the 
lads did not fall into the d — — d English morals, which would 
soon turn them into snowballs, and disqualify them ever after 
from living in their own proper country and natural society. ^^ 
These instructions the tutor faithfully acted up to ; and the 
young poet very much amused the whole party by his humor 
and turn for rhyming ; and was compelled to swear that he 
would pay them a visit, for a couple of years, at Belturbet, in 
Ireland, where they would show him what living was. Their 
father was himself doatingly fond of poetry and the hag- 
pipes ; and was induced to send them to Oxford only to 
please their mother's brother, who was, most unfortunately, an 
Englishman. 

My friend's reply to the parson's invitation was also in verse, 
and ran as follows : it was not amiss for a young tipster, and 
smacked in some degree of both Oxford and " Belturbet :" — 

""When parsons and poets their functions unite, 
And court the old muses to sing "an invite," 
The profane and the sacred connected we find, 
And are sure of a banquet to every man's mind. 
Though on Pegasus mounted, to Bacchus we fly, 
Yet we'll quaff just like Christians — our priest tells us why : — 
"Tis moist hospitality banishes sin, 
'Tis the wine-opened heart lets benevolence in,' 



390 MEMORA:iSrDA POETICA. 

There no long, canting grace cools our spicy ragout, 

While the impatient champagne bristles up all mousseu, 

Our eyes darting toward heaven, we cry — 'Come, goblets, give! 

This old pagan cream teaches Christians to live 1' 

Thus the pastor and flock will soon empty the bowl, 

And its spirit divide 'twixt the head and the soul ! ~ 

Though the Jove of our banquet no eagle can boast, 

We'll have plenty of ' kites flying' all round our host: 

Mid loud peals of humor iindaunted we'll sit, 

And for flashes of lightning have flashes of wit: 

Should his reverence perceive that our spirits are laid, 

Then hot-peppered devils he'll call to his aid, 

And, all Christians surpassing, old Tantalus see ! — ■ 

The more liquor he quaffs, still the drier he'll be ! 

But two modes of death sinful mortals should know — 

Break their necks from Parnassus, or drown in Bordeaux : 

And to which of those deaths I am doomed from on high, 

I'm sure of a parson who'll teach me to die. 

Then who can refuse to accept of a dinner. 

Where the host is from Erin — a priest — sainf* — and sinner ?" 

In fact, this same friend of mine, of whose poetry, or ratlier 
versification, I have thus given samples to the reader, is a very 
peculiar personage : bred to a profession which he never fol- 
lowed, with ample means and no occupation, he has arrived at 
a ripe age without much increasing his stock of wisdom, or at 
all diminishing that of his peculiarity. He told me he found 
his standard relief against ennui was invoking the muses, which, 
by ransacking his ideas and puzzling his genius, operated as a 
stimulus to his brain, and prevented that stagnation of the 
fluids which our ablest nosologists say is so often the induce- 
ment to suicide. My friend argues that the inexhaustible va- 
riety of passions, propensities, sentiments, and so forth, inhe- 
rent to the human frame, and which poets (like noblemen's 
fools in days of yore) have a license for daubing with any col- 
ors they think proper, affords to the language of poetry a vast 
superiority over that of prose : which latter being in its nature 
but a liumdrum concern, is generally expected to be reasona- 
bly correct, tolerably intelligible, and moderately decent — 
astringent qualifications which our modern poets appear to 
have conspired to disregard. 

My friend, however, observed that he himself was not ena- 

* The Rev. Luke O'Maher had been thus sportively nicknamed, on ac- 
count of his being so very good a fellow. 



POETIC MAEKET OYEESTOCKED. 391 

bled to take other than a limited advantage of this license — 
inasmuch as he had been frequently jilted by the muses, who 
never would do more tliRiiJlirt with him ; and hence, for want 
of a sufficient modicum of inspiration, he Avas necessitated to 
put up with the ordinary subjects of verse — such as epigrams, 
satires, odes on natal days, epitaphs on lapdogs and little chil- 
dren, translations of Greek songs that he never saw, and of 
Italian poetry that had never existed, &c. It was true he 
went on to inform me that he had occasionally flown at higher 
game in the regions of poesy ; but, somehow^ or other, no book- 
seller would publish his effusions : one said they were too Jlat; 
another that they were too elevated; a third characterized 
them as too wild for the critics ; and a fourth pronounced them 
too tame for the ladies. At length, however, the true state of 
the matter was candidly developed by a very intelligent pres- 
byterian bookseller in the city, who told my friend that he was 
quite too late as to poetry, with which the shops were crammed 
and the public nauseated. Besides, he said, all the poetic sta- 
tions in any way productive were already occupied. For in- 
stance, n poet Fitzgerald (whom Lord Byron calls " Hoarse 
Fitzgerald") had, ever since the days of the " Rejected Ad- 
dresses," been considered as the writer, reciter, and proprietor 
of the fulsome line of poetry ; the amatory, celestial, and hor- 
ticultural departments, had long been considered the property 
of Mr. Thomas Moore ; and every dactyl or spondee relating 
to roses, posies, dewdrops and thorns, grapes, lilies, kisses, 
blisses, blushes, angels, &c., Avould be considered as gross pla- 
giarism emanating from any other pen that of our justly-cele- 
brated lyrist ; while as to historic or Caledonian poetry, Walter 
Scott had not left an idea unappropriated for any fresh pen- 
man. He had raised an obscure people to eternal celebrity, • 
by recording their murders in English versification ; and, by 
his " Battle of Waterloo," had proved that his own muse, in 
the dej)artment of manslaughter, was in a very declining state 
of health, probably owing to the extraordinary fatigue she had 
previously undergone. 

My friend was proceeding to detail further the admonitory 
conversation of this honest bipliopole, when I interrupted him 



392 MEMOEANDA TOETICA. ' 

by asking, naturally enoiigli, liow lie could continue to derive 
any pleasure from a pursuit in whicli lie admitted himself to 
have been so very unsuccessful ; to which he adroitly replied, 
" On the very same principle that a bad shot may have just as 
much amusement as a capital sportsman — perhaps more — one 
good hit being as gratifying to him as twenty to an undevia- 
ting slaughterer." I coincided in my friend's remark, adding 
that the same sort of observation would apply to random jokers 
as well as rhymesters ; and that I have more than once abso- 
lutely envied the inordinate happiness of a universal punster 
when he chanced to say anything that had a symptom of wit 
in it. 

My friend then, gravely opening his portfolio, selected tw^o 
of his productions, which he gave me permission to publish, 
particularly as one of them had been most abruptly rejected 
by an eminent newspaper, and the other by a magazine of 
considerable reputation. 

The intended magazine article ran as follows : — 

THE mGHLANDEE. 

"A sans culotte from Caledonia's wilds, 
Rasped into form by NaUire's roughest files, • 

Hearing of savory meats — of moneys made — 
Of unsraocked women — and of gaining trade ; — 
E-esolved, from sooty cot to seek a town, 
And to the lowlands boldly stumped it down. 
But then, alas! his garb would never do: — 
The greasy kilt, bare loins, and tatter'd shoe : 
Yet urged to better food and better fame. 
He borrowed breeches and assumed a name ; 
Then tucked his kilt, gartered his motley hose, 
New nailed his heels, and caped the peeping toes. 
His freckled fist a swineherd's bludgeon wields. 
His tried companion through the sties and fields, 
(Full many a jeei'ing clown had felt its sway) 
Now to a cane promoted, helps its master's way. 
Full fifty baubees Sandy had in store. 
And piteous tales had raised him fifty more : 
His knife, his pipe, and eke his baubee bank, 
In Basil pouch hung dangling from his flank: 
No empty wallet on his shoulder floats: 
Hard eggs, soft cheese, tobacco, salt, and oats. 
Crammed in one end, wagged o'er his brawny chest, 
And what was once a blanket poised the rest ; 
Thus wealthy, victualled, proud, content, and gay, 
Down Grampian's sterile steeps young sandy wound his way. 



"bejected addresses.' 393 

Hail food ! haii raiment ! hail that happy lot 
Which lured such genius fi'om the smoky cot, 
To mingle iu the ranks of breech esed men, 
■ And coin a name and family again ! 

"Where famed St, Andrew's txirrets tower on high; 
Where learned doctors lecture, doze, and die; 
Where Knowledge sleeps, and Science seeks repose, 
And mouldering halls more mouldering heads disclose, — 
Where Roman Virgil pipes in Celtic verse. 
And Grecian Homer sings to gods in Erse; — 
'Twas there that Sandy formed his worldly creed, 
Brushed gowns, swept book-shelves, learned to shave and read: 
From craft to craft his willing genius rose ; 
When cash was scarce he wisely Avrotight for clothes. 
And threadbare trophies, once the kirksmen's pride, 
Miekle by mickle swelled his wallet's side. 
Well turned, well washed, the rags denied their age, 
, While Sandy's granite visage aped the sage. 
Here, great Lavater ! here thy science stands 
Confessed and proved by more than mortal hands. 
Though o'er his features Nature's art we see, 
JHer deepest secrets are disclosed through thee. 
The green-tinged eye, curled lip, and lowering brows, 
Which malice harrows, and which treachery ploughs, 
In deep sunk furrows on his front we find. 
Tilling the crops that thrive in Sandy's mind. 
IS'o soft sensations can that face impart; 
Ko gratitude springs glowing from the heart: 
As deadly nightshade creeping on the ground. 
He tries to poison what he can not wound. 
Yet Sandy has a most consistent mind, 
Too low to rise, too coarse to be refined. 
Too rough to polish, and too loose to bind: 
Yet if" * * , * 

On looking over tlie residue, I found I could not with pro- 
priety continue the publication of this satire : were I to pro- 
ceed five or six lines farther, ill-natured people might possibly 
find a pretence for designation, and I should be very sorry to 
be considered as capable of becoming an instrument in so 
improper a procedure : I therefore returned the copy to my 
port-folio, and subsequently to the author mentioning my 
reasons, and advising him to burn the rest. His reply to me 
was laconic — "My Dear B . . . , qui capit illefacitr 

The other trifle is a mere jeu d'esprit, and can not be disa- 
greeable to anybody, unless it may be taken amiss by some 
West Indian proprietor, whose probable touchiness at the 
introduction of the word slavery, I do not feel called on to 
compassionate. 

17* 



394 MEMORANDA POETICA. 

"epigram. 

"Sir Sidney Smith and Miss Rumhold. 

"Says Sidney — 'I'll put all white slavery down ; 
All Europe I'll summon to arms ;' 
But fair Rumbold replied — 'I'll reverse my renown, 
For all men shall be slaves to my charms.' 

"If thus, lovely champion, that tongue and those eyes 
Can set all mankind by the ears; 
Go — fire off your glances, explode a few sighs, 

And make captive the dey of Algiers! 
Thus you'll rival Sir Sidney in glory and gains; 
He may conquer the tyrant — you'll lead him in chains." 

I can not conclude these memoranda without adding a few 
fragments from some unpublished and nearly unknown works, 
tlie production of Miss T . . . n, tlie amiable young lady to 
whom I have before introduced the reader, an-d who com- 
menced versifying at the early age of fifteen. Her composi- 
tions are numerous, and comprise a variety of subjects and of 
styles, from the fugitive lyric to the pretending epic ; but with 
a natural and becoming modesty (though in her case, in my 
opinion unnecessarily retained), she refuses to submit them to 
the ordeal of the public. 

THE BARD. 

Extracted from' an unpublished Poem, called "Boadicea." 

"«Amid those aged sons of song 
One seemed to tower the rest among: 
For though the heavy hand of Time 
Had somewhat marred his youthful prime; 
Though the sunny glow had faded 
On the locks his brow that shaded ; 
Stern Time, not even thy icy sway 
Might quench the heaven-enkindled lay 
Which wakened to achievements high 
Those heroes of antiquity, 
Howe'er it were, from that bright band 
Sadly apart he seemed to stand, 
And lowly on his harp he leant 
With eye of gloom and eyebrow bent; 
But. still, despite his sterner mood, 
By all with reverence he was viewed, 
Such charms of dignity hath age 
When on the brow experience sage 
Hath stamped the worth of years that sleep, 
And when the mind hath known to reap 
Harvests of scientific lore, 
And well-secured the precious store ; — 



THE BxlED, AN EXTExVCT. 395 

When all the stormy dreams of youth 
Fade in the beacon-light of truth; 
When fiery feelings are repressed, 
The spirit calmed, the heart at rest? 
Then in the form of age we find 
Somewhat sm-passing ear-thly kind. 
Now forth his harp that minstrel drew, 
And o'er the chords his fingers threw, 
The while beneath that lighter sway 
Murm.ured the scarcely-bidden lay, 
In soft half-warbled cadence stealing 
O'er the melting soul of feeling : 
But when he caught the transport high 
Which marked the kindling melody. 
His upturned eye and heaving breast 
The mighty frenzy quick confessed ; 
The, sympathetic strings beneath 
A wild inspiring chorus breathe. 
And borne the lofty halls along, 
Floats high the patriot minstrel's song : — 

"' The mildew of time steeps the lanrel-bonnd wreath, 
And the war-sword ingloriously rusts in its sheath, 
Which burst on the foe as the bolt from on high, 
And sprinkled the blood of revenge to the sky. 

"'The arm is unbraced and the nerves are unstrung 
Of him who in combat that dark weapon swung; 
For the souls of the heroes of loftier days. 
Kindled high in their glory, have sunk in the blaze : 

"'And the laurels of Britain, drooped, withered, and shrunk, 
And her standard of freedom all hopelessly sunk. 
And the sons of the isles, scattered thin on the hill, 
Stood forsaken and drooping, but dauntlessly still. 

" ' Ye sons of the brave ! is the bold spirit fled 

Which to combat and conquest your forefathers led? 
Oh no ! it but sleeps in the souls it should warm ! 
The more fiercely to burn in the day of the storm. 

'"But too long it hath slept: for the hearts of the brave 
Are a country's best bulwarks to guard and to save : 
Oh then be the lion aroused in each breast, 
Triumphant to conquer, or nobly to rest. 

" ' Be it yours to divulge the dark volume of fate ; 
Be it yours to revenge, ere revenge be too late: 
Oh let not the spirit of freedom repose 
Till it visit the wrongs of our land on its foes. 

" ' 'Tis youi' country that calls; shall that cry be in vain? 
All bleeding she lies in the conqueror's chain : . 
Chiefs ! but one struggle more, and her freedom is won : 
Let us triumph or die, as our fathers have done. 



390 THEATKICAL KECOLLEGTIOKS. ' 

** 'Lite the lightning of hcayen be jour arms on the heath, 
Loud, loud ring your .shields with the thunder of death: 
As the waves of your ocean rush down to the strife, 
And each stroke be for Britain — for freedom and life !' 

"The bard has ceased : the lofty lay 
In long yibrations dies away, 
And melts upon the air around 
Till silence blends away the sound. 
The bard upon each warrior gazed. 
To mark what thoughts his strain had raised. 
The eye that late flashed high with mirth 
Li altered cheer now sought the earth; 
The cheek that bright with joy had blushed, 
Far other feeling now had flushed. 
It might haye seemed throughout the hall, 
(So motionless, so mute, were all), 
As though the spirit of the storm 
Had swept along each stately form 
A moment — and what change was wrought . 
In every look and every thought! 
Roused by the breath of life, they seem 
To start at once from their death-like dream ; 
A sudden impulse, wild and strong. 
Agitates the moving throng 
And like the billows of the deep, 
"When darkening tempests o'er it sweep. 
In every freeborn heart, that strain 
Cbneordant echoes roused aarain!" 



THEATEIOAL EEGOLLEOT'IONS. 

The Author's Early Visits to Crow Street Theatre — Interruptions of the University Men — 
College Pranks — Old Mr. Sheridan in "Cato"and in "Alexander the Great." — Curious 
Scene introduced, by Mistake, in the latter Tragedy — Mr. Digijes in the Ghost of Hamlet's 
Father — Chorus of Cocks — The Author's Preference of Comedy to Tragedy — Remarks 
on Mr. Kean and the London IMoralists — Liston in " Paul Pry." — Old Sparks — The Span- 
ish Debutante — Irish Johnstone — Modern Comedy — The Fiench Stage. 

From my youth I was attached to theatrical representations, 
and have still a clear recollection of many of the eminent per- 
formers of my early days. My grandmother, with whom I 
resided for many years, had silver tickets of admission to Crow 
Street theatre, whither I was very frequently sent. 

The playhouses in Dublin were then lighted with tallow 
candles, stuck into tin circles hanging from the middle of the 



GROW STEEET THEATEE COLLEGE PEANKS. 307 

stage, which were eveiy now and then snuffed by some per- 
former; and two soldiers, with fixed bayonets, alvv^ays stood' 
like statues on each side of the stage, close to the boxes, to 
keep the audience in order. The galleries were very noisy 
and very d?'oU. The ladies and gentlemen in the boxes al- 
ways went dressed out nearly as for court ; the strictest eti- 
quette and decorum were preserved in that circle ; while the 
pit, as being full of critics and wise men, was particularly 
respected, except when the young gentlemen of the university 
occasionally forced themselves in, to revenge some insult, real 
or imagined, to a member of their body ; on which occasions, 
all the ladies, well-dressed men, and peaceable people gener- 
ally, decamped forthwith, and the young gentlemen as generally 
proceeded to beat or turn out the rest of the audience, and to 
break everything that came within their reach. These exploits 
were by no means uncommon ; and the number and rank of 
the young culprits were so great, that (coupled Avith the impossi- 
bility of selecting the guilty), the college would have been 
nearly depopulated, and many of the great families in Ireland 
enraged beyond measure, had the students been expelled or 
even rusticated. 

I had the honor of being frequently present, and (as far as 
in melee), giving a helping hand to our encounters both in the 
playhouses and streets. We were in the habit of going about 
the latter, on dark nights, in coaches, and, by flinging 6nt 
half-pence, breaking the windows of all the houses we rapidly 
drove by, to the astonishment and terror of the proprietors. 
At other times we used to convey gunpowder squibs into all 
the lamps in several streets at once, and by longer or shorter 
fuses coutriA^e to have them all burst about the same time, 
breaking every lamp to shivers, and leaving whole streets in 
utter darkness. Occasionally we threw large crackers into the 
china and glass shops, and delighted to see the terrified shop- 
keepers trampling on their own porcelain and cut glass, for 
"fear of an explosion. By way of a treat, we used sometimes 
to pay the watchmen to lend us their cloaks and rattles ; by 
virtue whereof, we broke into the low prohibited gambling 
houses, knocked out the lights, drove the gamblers down stairs, 



398 TPIEATEICAL RECOLLECTION'S. 

and then gave all their stakes to the watchmen. The whole 
body of watchmen belonging to one parish (that of the round 
church) were our sworn friends, and would take our part against 
any other watchmen in Dublin. We made a permanent sub- 
scription, and paid each of these regularly seven shillings a 
week-for his ^7(^z^^r6>?^«^•e. I mention these trifles, out of a thou- 
sand odd pranks, as a part of my plan, to show, from a com- 
parison of the past with the present state of society in the 
Irish metropolis, the extraordinary improvement which has 
taken place in point of decorum within the last half-century. 
The young gentlemen of the university then were in a state 
of great insubordination ; not as to their learning, but their 
wild habits : indeed, the singular feats of some of them would 
be scarcely c'redible now ; and they were so linked together, that 
an offence to one was an offence to all. There were several 
noblemen's sons with their gold-laced, and elder sons of baro- 
nets with their silver-laced gowns, who used to accompany us, 
with their gowns turned inside out ; yet our freaks arose merely 
from the fire and natural vivacity of uncontrolled youth ; no 
calm, deliberate vices, no low meannesses, were ever commit- 
ted ; that class of young men now termed dandies we then 
called macaronies ; and we made it a standing rule to thrash 
them whenever we got a fair opportunity : such also as had 
been long tied to their " mother's apron-strings," we made no 
small sport with when we got them clear inside the college : 
we called them milksops, and if they declined drinking as much 
wine as ordered, we always dosed them, as in duty bound, 
with tumblers of salt and water till they came to their feeding, 
as we called it. Thus generally commenced a young man of 
fashion's noviciate above fifty years ago. However, our wild- 
ness instead of increasing as we advanced in our college courses, 
certainly diminished, and often left behind it the elements of 
much talent and virtue. Indeed, I believe there were to the 
full as good scholars, and certainly to the full as high gentle- 
men, educated in the Dublin university then, as in this wiser 
and more cold-blooded era. 

I remember, even before that period, seeing old Mr. Sheri- 
dan perform the part of Cato at one of the Dublin theatres ; I 



A SCENE NOT IX THE BILLS. 399 

do not recollect wliieli : but I well recollect liis dress, wliicli 
consisted of bright armor under a fine laced scarlet cloak, 
and surmounted by a huge, white, bushy, well-powdered wig 
(like Dr. Johnson's) over which was stuck his helmet. I won- 
dered much how he could kill himself without stripping off 
the armor before he performed that operation ! I also recol- 
lect him particularly (even as before my eyes now) playing 
Alexander the Great, and throAving the javelin at Clytus, whom 
happening to miss, he hit the cupbearer, then played by one 
of the hack performers, a Mr. Jemmy Fotterel. Jemm.y very 
naturally supposed that he was hit desigjiedly, and that it was 
some new light of the great Mr. Sheridan to slay the cupbearer 
in preference to his friend Clytus (which certainly would have 
been a less unjustifiable manslaughter), and that therefore he 
ought to tumble down and make a painful end according to 
dramatic custom time immemorial. Immediately, therefore, 
on being struck, he reeled, staggered, and fell very naturally, 
considering it was his Jirst death ; but being determined on 
this unexpected opportunity to make an impression upon the 
audience, when he found himself stretched out on the boards 
at full length, he began to roll about, kick, and flap the stage 
with his hands most immoderately ; falling next into strong 
convulsions, exhibiting every symptom of exquisite torture, and 
at length expiring with a groan so loud and so long that it 
paralyzed even the people in the galleries, while the ladies 
believed that he was really killed, and cried aloud. 

Though then very young, I was myself so terrified in the 
pit that I never shall forget it. However, Jemmy Fotterel 
was in the end, more clapped than any Clytus had ever been, 
and even the murderer himself could not help laughing most 
heartily at the incident. 

The actresses of both tragedy and genteel comedy formerly 
wore large hoops, and v/henever they made a speech walked 
across the stage and changed sides with the performer who 
was to speak next, thus veering backward and forward, like 
a shuttlecock, during the entire performance. This custom 
partially prevailed in the continental theatres till very lately. 

I recollect Mr. Barry, who was really a remarkably hand- 



400 THEATKICAL KECOLLECTIONS. 

some man, and liis ladj (fbrmerlv Mrs. Dancer) ; also Mr. Dig- 
ges, who used to play the gliost in " Hamlet." One night in 
doubling that part Avith Polonins, Digges forgot on appearing 
as the gliost, previously- to rnb off the bright red paint with 
which his face had been daubed for the other character. A 
spirit with a large red nose and vermilioned cheeks was ex- 
tremely novel and much applauded. There was also a famous 
actor who used to play the coch that crew to call off the ghost 
when Hamlet had done v,dth him : this performer did his part 
so well that everybody used to say he was the best cock that 
ever had been heard at Smock- Alley, and six or eight other 
gentry of the dunghill species were generally brought behind 
the scenes, who on hearing him, mistook him for a brother 
cock, and set up their pipes all together : and thus, by the 
infinity of crowing at the same moment, the hour was the bet- 
ter marked, and the gliost glided back to the other world in 
the midst of a perfect chorus of cocks, to the no small admira- 
tion of the audience. 

Of the distinguished merits of the old actors, or indeed of 
many of the more modern ones, I profess myself but a very 
moderate judge. One thing, however, I am sure of; that, man 
or boy, I never admired tragedy, however well personated. 
Lofty feelings and strong passions may be admirably mimicked 
therein; but the ranting, whining, obviously premeditated start- 
ing, disciplined gesticulation, &c. — the committing of suicide 
in mellifluous blank verse, and rhyming when in the agonies 
of death, stretch away so very far from nature, as to destroy all 
that illusion whereon the effect of dramatic exhibition in my 
mind entirely depends. Unless occasionally to witness some 
very celebrated new actor, I have not attended a tragedy these 
forty years ; nor have I ever yet seen any tragedian on the 
British stage who made so decided an impression on my feel- 
ings as Mr. Kean, in some of his characters, has done. When 
I have seen other celebrated men enact the same parts, I have 
remained quite tranquil, however my judgment may have been 
satisfied : but he has made me shudder, and that, in my estima- 
tion, is the grand triumph of the actor's art. I have seldom 
sat out the last murder scene of any play except " Tom 



KEAN" THE LONDON MORALISTS LISTON. 4:01 

Thumb," or " Clirononhotontliologos," whicli certainly are no 
burles(][ues on some of our standard tragedies. 

Kean's Skylock and Sir Giles Overreach seemed to me neither 
more nor less than actual ideniijicatjon of those portraitures : 
so much so in fact, that I told him mjself, after seeing him 
perform the first-mentioned part, that I could have found in 
my heart to knock his brains out the moment he had finished 
his performance* 

Two errors, however, that great actor has in a remarkable 
degree : some of his pauses are so long, that he appears to have 
forgotten himself; and he pats Ms hreast so often, that it really 
reminds one of a nurse patting her infant to keep it from squal- 
ling ; it is a pity he is not aware of these imperfections ! 

If, however, I have been always inclined to undervalue 
tragedy, on the other hand, all the comic performers of my 
time in Ireland I perfectly recollect. I allude to the days of 
Kyder, O'Keeffe, Yv'ilks, Wilder, Vandermere, &c., (fee, &c. 

The efPect produced by even one actor, or one trivial inci- 
dent, is sometimes surprising. The dramatic trifle called 
" Paul Pry" has had a greater run, I believe, than any piece 
of the kind ever exhibited in London. I went to see it, and 
was greatly amused, not altogether by the piece, but by the 
ultra oddity of one performer, Put any handsome, or even 
humane-looking person, in Liston's place, and take away his 
umbrella, and Paul Pry v^'^ould scarcely bring another audience. 

* IS'othing could be more truly disgusting than the circumstance of the 
most ruffianly parts of the London population, imder the general appella- 
tion of a " British audience,'" assuming to themselves the feelings of virtue, 
delicacy, decorum, morals, and modesty, for the sole purpose of driving into 
exile one of the first performers that ever trod the stage of England ! and 
that for an offence which (though abstractedly unjustifiable) a great num- 
ber of the gentry, not a few of the nobility, and even members of the holy 
church militant, are constantly committing and daily detected in: which 
commission and detection by no means seem to have diminished their pop- 
ularity, or caused their reception to be less cordial among saints, methodists, 
legal autliorities, and justices of the quorum. 

The virtuous sentence of transportation passed against Mr. Kean, by the 
mob of London certainly began a new series of British morality; and the 
laudable societies for the "suppression of vice" may shortly be eased of a 
great proportion of their labors by more active moralists, culled from High 
street, St. Giles', the Israelites of Rag Fair, and the houses- of correction. 
Hogarth has, in his print of "Evening," immortalized the happy state of the 
horned citizens at his period. 



402 THEATRICAL KECOLLECTIONS. 

His countenance continually presents the drollest set of sta- 
tionary features I ever saw, and lias the uncommon merit of 
being exquisitely comic jper se, without the slightest distortion : 
no artijicial grimace, indeed, could improve his natural, I re- 
member O'KeefFe justly the delight of Dublin : and Ryder the 
best Sh' John Brute, Ranger, Marplot, &lc., in the world : the 
prologue of "Bucks have at ye All!" was repeated by him 
four hundred and twenty-four times. O'Keefie's Tony Lump- 
kin, Vandermere's ShirinisJi, Wilder's Colonel Oldhoy, &c., &c., 
came as near nature as acting and mimicry could possibly ap- 
proach. There was also a first edition of Liston as to drollery, 
on the Dublin stage, usually called " Old Sparkes." He was 
very tall, and of a very large size ; with heavy -hanging jaws, 
gouty ankles, big paunch, and sluggish motion : but his comic 
face and natural drollery were irresistible. He was a most 
excellent actor in everything he could personate : his grotesque 
figure, however, rendered these parts but few. Peachum, in 
the "Beggar's Opera," Caliban (with Ms own additions), in 
" The Tempest," and all bulky, droll, low characters, he did 
to the greatest perfection. At one time, when the audience 
of Smock alley were beginning to flag, Old Sparkes told Ryder, 
if he would bring out the afterpiece of " The Padlock," and 
permit him to manage it, he would insure him a succession of 
good nights. Ryder gave him his way, and the bills announced 
a first appearance in the part of Leonora : the dehutante was 
reported to be a Spanish lady. The public curiosity was ex- 
cited, and youth, beauty, and tremulous modesty, were all an- 
ticipated ; the house overflowed ; impatience was unbounded; 
the play ended in confusion, and the overture of " The Pad- 
lock" was received with rapture. Leonora at length appeared ; 
the clapping w^as like thunder, to give courage to the dehutante, 
who had a handsome face, and was very beautifully dressed 
as a Spanish donna, which it was supposed she really was. 
Her gigantic size, it is true, rather astonished the audience. 
However, they willingly took for granted that the Spaniards 
were an immense people, and it was observed that England 
must have had a great escape of the Spanish Armada, if the 
men were proportionably gigantic to the ladies. Her voice 



OLD SPAEKES A2>:D HIS GAXDEE. 403 

too was ratlier of tlie hoarsest, but that was accounted for by 
the sudden change of climate : at Last, Leonora began her song' 
of " Sweet Eobin" — 

"Say, little foolish, fluttering' thing, 
Whither, ah whither, would you wing?" 

and at the same moment Leonora's mask falling off. Old 
Sparkes stood confessed, with an immense gander which he 
brought from under his cloak, and which he had trained to 
stand on his hand and screech to his voice, and in chorus with 
himself. The whim took ; the roar of laughter was quite in- 
conceivable ; he had also got Mungo played by a real black ; 
and the whole was so extravagantly ludicrous, and so entirely 
to the taste of the Irish galleries at that time, that his " Sweet 
Kobin" was encored, and the frecjuent repetition of the piece 
replenished poor Ryder's treasury for the residue of the season. 

I think about that time JMr. John Johnstone was a dragoon. 
His mother was a very good sort of woman, whom I remem- 
ber extremely well. Between fifty and sixty years ago she 
gave me a little book, entitled "' The History of the Seven 
Champions of Christendom," which I have (with several other 
books of my childhood) to this day. She used to call at my 
grandmother's to sell run muslins, &c., which she carried about 
her hips in great wallets, passing them off for a hoop. She 
was called by the old woman, in pleasantry, " Mull and Jac- 
onot;" sold great bargains, and was a universal favorite with 
the ladies. Young Johnstone was a remarkably genteel well- 
looking lad ; he used to bring presents of trout to my grand- 
mother, which he caught in the great canal then going on close 
to Dublin. He soon went into the army : but having a weak- 
ness in his legs, he procured a speedy discharge, and acquired 
eminence on the Irish stage. 

I never happened to encounter Mr. Johnstone in private 
society, till we met at dinner at Lord Barrymore's, in 1812, 
where Col. Bloomfield, my friend ]\[r. Richard Martin (now 
justly called Humanity Martin), and others, were assembled. 
I was glad to meet the distiuguished comedian, and mentioned 
some circumstances to him which proved the extent of my 



404: THEATEICAL RECOLLECTIONS. 

memory. He sang that niglit as sweetly as ever I heard him 
on the stage, and that is saying much. 

Mr. Johnstone was a truly excellent performer of the more 
refined species of Irish characters ; but nature had not given 
him enough of that original shoulder twist, and what they call 
the ^^ potheen twang,^^ which bo strongly characterize the genu- 
ine national vis comica of the lower orders of Irish. In this 
respect, perhaps, Owenson was superior to him, of whom the 
reader will find a more detailed account in a future page. 

No modern comedy, in my mind, equals those of the old 
writers. The former are altogether devoid of that high-bred, 
witty playfulness of dialogue so conspicuous in the works of 
the latter. Gaudy spectacle, commonplace clap-traps, and 
bad puns, together with forced or mongrel sentiment, have 
been substituted to " make the unskilful laugh," and to the 
manifest sorrow of the "judicious." Perhaps so much the bet- 
ter : as, although there are now most excellent scene-painters 
and fireworkers, the London stage appears to be almost desti- 
tute of competent performers in the parts of genuine comedy, 
and the present London audiences seem to prefer gunpowder, 
resin, brimstone, musketry, burning castles, and dancing ponies, 
to any human or Christian entertainments, evidently despising 
all those high-finished comic characters, which satisfy the un- 
derstanding and owe nothing to the scenery. 

There is another species of theatrical representation extant 
in France — namely, scriptural pieces, half-burlesque, half- 
melodrama. These are undoubtedly among the drollest things 
imaginable ; mixing up, in one unconnected mass, tragedy, 
comedy, and farce — painting, music, scenery — dress and un- 
dress — decency and indecency!* 

* "Samson pulling down the Hall of the Philistines" is the very finest 
. piece of spectacle that can be conceived! — "Susannah and the Elders" is 
rather too naked a concern for the English ladies to look at, unless through 
their fans: transparent ones have lately been invented, to save the expense 
of blushes at the theatres, &c. But the most whimsical of their scriptural 
dramas is the exhibition of Noah as a shipbuilder, preparatory to the del- 
uge. He is assisted by large gangs of angels working as his journeymen, 
whose great solicitude is to keep their wings clear out of the way of their 
hatchets, <fee. At length the whole of them strike and turn out for wages, 
till the arrival of a body of gens d'armes immediately brings them to order, 
by whom they are threatened to be sent back to heaven if they do not 
behave themselves ! . 



THE FRENCH THEATRE. 405 

I liave seen many admirable comedians on the continent. 
Nothing can possibly exceed Mademoiselle Mars, for instance, 
in many characters : but the French are all actors and actres- 
ses from their cradles ; and a great number of performers, even 
at the minor theatres, seem to me to forget that they are inlay- 
ing, and at times nearly made the audience forget it too ! 
Their spectacle is admirably good, their dancing excellent, 
and their dresses beautiful. Their orchestras are well Jilled, 
in every sense of the word, and the level of musical composi- 
tion is not so low as some of Mr. Bishop's effusions. Their sing- 
ing, however, is execrable ; their tragedy rant ; but their ^rc^e 
comedy very nature itself ! 

In short, the French beyond doubt exceed all other people 
in the world with regard to theatrical matters ; and as every 
man, woman, and child, in Paris, is cq[ually attached to spec- 
tacle, every house is full, every company encouraged, all tastes 
find some gratification. An Englishman can scarcely quit a Par- 
isian theatre without having seen himself or some of his family 
characteristically and capitally represented. The Anglais sup- 
ply certainly an inexhaustible source of French mimicry ; and 
as we can not help it, do what we will, our countrymen now 
begin to practise the good sense of laughing at it themselves ! 
John Bull thinks that roast beef is the finest dish in the whole 
world, and that the finest fellow in Europe is the man that eats 
it. On both points, the Frenchman begs leave, tout a fait, to 
differ with John : and nothing can be sillier than to oppose 
opinions with a positive people, in their own country, and who 
never yet, right or wrong, gave up an argument. 



406 MRS. JOEDAN. 



MRS. JORDAN. 

Public Misstatement respecting that Lady — Tlie Author's long Acquaintance with Her — Dc- 
hut of Mrs. Jordan, at the Dublin Theatre, as Miss Francis — Her incipient Talents at that 
Period — Favorite Actresses then in Possession of the Stage — Theatrical Jealousy — Mrs. 
Daly (formerly Miss Barsanti) — Curious Inversion of Characters in the Opera of " Tiie 
Goveiness," resorted to l)y the Manager to rahe the Wind — Lieutenant Doyne proposes 
for Miss Francis — His Suit rejected from Prudential CDnsiderations — Miss Francis de- 
parts for England — Mr. Owenson, Lady Morgan's Father — Comparison between that 
Performer and Mr. John (commonly called Irish) Johnstone — Introduction of the Author 
to His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence — Reflections on the Scurrilous Personalities 
of the English Press — Mrs. Jordan in the Gi'een-Room and on the Stage — Her Remarks 
on the Theatrical Art, and on her own Style of Acting — Her Last Visit to Dublin, and 
Curious Circumstances connected therewith — Mr. Dwyer the Actor and Mr. Sergeant 
Gold — Mrs. Jordan in Private Society. — Extracts from her Letters — Her Retirement 
from Bushy, and subsequent Embarkation for France. 

The foregoing sTiort and superficial sketches of tlie Dublin 
stage in my juvenile days bring me to a subject more recent 
and much more interesting to my feelings. I touch it never- 
theless with pain, and must ever deeply regret the untimely 
catastrophe of a lady who was at once the highest surviving 
prop of her profession, and a genuine sample of intrinsic excel- 
lence. Had her fate descended while filling her proper sta- 
tion and in her own country — or had not the circumstances 
which attended some parts of that lady's career been entirely 
mistaken — had not the cause of her miseries been grossly mis- 
represented ^ and the story of her desertion and embarrassed 
state at the time of her dissolution altogether false — I proba- 
bly should never have done more (under the impression of its 
being intrusive, perhaps indelicate) than mention her profes- 
sional excellences. 

But so much of that lady's life, and so much relating to her 
death also, has been misstated in the public prints (not for the 
purpose of doing her justice, but of doing another injustice), 
that I feel myself warranted in sketching some traits and inci- 
dents of Mrs. Jordan's character and life, all of which I know 
to be true, and a great proportion whereof I was personally 
acquainted with. Some degree of mystery has doubtless rested, 
and will probably continue to rest, on the causes which led that 
lady to repair to a foreign country, where she perished ; all 
I shall say, however, on that score, is, that these causes have 



HEK DEBUT AT THE DIJBLIiS" THEATKE. 40T 

never yet been known except to a very limited number of indi- 
viduals, and never had, in any sbape or in any degree, bearing 
or connection witli ber former situation. Tbe reports current 
on this head I know to be utterly unfounded, and many of 
them I believe to be altos-ether malicious. 

I am not Mrs. Jordan's biographer ; my observations only 
apply to abstract portions of her conduct and abstract periods 
of her life. I had the gratification of knowing intimately that 
amiable woman and justly-celebrated performer. Her public 
talents are recorded ; her private merits are known to few. I 
enjoyed a portion of her confidence on several very particular 
subjects, and had full opportunity of appreciating her character. 

It was not by a cursory acquaintance that Mrs. Jordan could 
be known : unreserved confidence alone could develop her 
qualities, and none of them escaped my observation. I have 
known her when in the busy, bustling exercise of her profes- 
sion : I have known her when in the tranquil lap of ease, of 
luxury, and of magnificence. I have seen her in a theatre, 
surrounded by a crowd of adulating dramatists : I have seen 
her in a palace, surrounded by a numerous, interesting, and 
beloved ofi'spring. I have seen her happy : I have seen her, 
alas ! miserable — and I could not help participating in all her 
feelings. 

At the point of time when I first saw Mrs. Jordan, she could 
not be much more, I think, than sixteen years of age, and was 
making her debut, as Miss Francis, at the Dublin theatre. It 
is worthy of observation that her early appearances in Dublin 
were not in any of those characters (save one) wherein she 
afterward so eminently excelled ; but such as, being more girl- 
ish, were better suited to her spirits and her age. I was then, 
of course, less competent than now to exercise the critical art, 
yet could not but observe that in these parts she was perfect 
even on her first appearance : she had no art, in fact, to study ; 
Nature was her sole instructress. Youthful, joyous, animated, 
and droll, her laugh bubbled. up from her heart, and her tears 
welled out ingenuously from the deep spring of feeling. Her 
countenance was all expression, without being all beauty : her 
form, then light and elastic — her flexible limbs — the juvenile 



408 MES. JOEDAN. 

but indescribable graces of her every movement — impressed 
themselves, as I perceived, indelibly upon all who attended 
even her earliest performances. 

Her expressive features and eloquent action at all periods 
harmonized blandly with each other — not by artifice, however 
skilful, but by intellectual sympaiJiy ; and when her figure was 
adapted to the part she assumed, she had only to speak the 
words of an author to become the very person he delineated. 
Her voice was clear and distinct, modulating itself .with natu- 
ral and winning ease ; and when exerted in song, its gentle, 
flute-like melody formed the most captivating contrast to the 
convulsed and thundering bravura. She was, throughout, the 
untutored child of Nature : she sang without effort, and gener- 
ally without the accompaniment of instruments ; and whoever 
heard her " Dead of the Night," and her " Sweet Bird," either 
in public or private, if they had any soul, must have surren- 
dered at discretion. 

In genuine playful, comic characters, such as Belinda, &c., 
she was unique : but in \hQ formal, dignified, Mgli-hred parts of 
genteel comedy, her superiority, although great, was not so 
decided. Her line, indeed, was distinctly marked out, but 
within its extent she stood altogether unrivalled — nay, unap- 
proached. 

At the commencement of Mrs. Jordan's theatrical career, she 
had difficulties to encounter which nothing but superiority of 
talent could so suddenly have surmounted. Both of the Dublin 
theatres were filled with performers of high popular reputation, 
and thus every important part in her line of acting was abi^ 
preoccupied. The talent of the female performers, matured 
by experience and disciplined by practice, must yet have 
yielded to the fascinating powers of her natural genius, had it 
been suffered fairly to expand. But the jealousy which never 
fails to pervade all professions was powerfully excited to re- 
strain the development of her mimic powers ; and it was re- 
served for English audiences to give full play and credit to 
that extraordinary comic genius which soon raised her to the 
highest pitch at once of popular and critical estimation. 

Mrs. Daly, formerly Miss Barsanti, was foremost among the 



FIRST GKAVE ' INCIDENT IN HER LIFE. 409 

successfal occupants of tliose buoyant characters to wliicli Miss 
Francis was peculiarly adapted. Other actresses had long 
filled the remaining parts to which she aspired ; and thus 
scarcely one was left open to engage her talents. 

Mr. Daly, about this time, resorted to a singular species of 
theatrical entertainment, by the novelty whereof he proposed 
to rival his competitors of Smock alley — namely, that of re- 
versing characters, the men performing the female, and the 
females the male parts, in comedy and opera. The opera of 
" The Governess" was played in this way for several nights, 
the part of Lopez by Miss Francis. In this singular and unim- 
portant character the versatility of her talent rendered the 
piece attractive, and the season concluded with a strong anti- 
cipation of her future celebrity. 

The company then proceeded to perform in the provinces, 
and at Waterford occurred the first grave incident in the life 
of Mrs. Jordan. Lieutenant Charles Doyne, of the third regi- 
ment of heavy horse (Greens), was then quartered in that city ; 
and, struck with the naivete and almost irresistible attractions 
of the young performer, his heart yielded, and he became seri- 
ously and honorably attached to her. Lieutenant Doyne was 
not handsome, but he was a gentleman and a worthy man, and 
had been my friend and companion some years at the univer- 
sity. I knew him intimately, and he intritsted me with his 
passion. Miss Francis's mother was then alive, and sedulously 
attended her. Full of ardor and thoughtlessness myself, I ad- 
•^ed him, if he could win the young lady, to marry her — 
™ding that no doubt fortune must smile on so disinterested a 
union. Her mother, however, was of a different opinion ; and 
as she had no fortune but her talent, the exercise of which was 
to be relinquished with the name of Francis, it became a mat- 
ter of serious consideration from what source they were to draw 
their support — vrith the probability, too, of a family ! His 
commission was altogether inadequate, and his private fortune 
very small. This obstacle, in short, was insurmountable : Mrs. 
Francis, anticipating the future celebrity of her child, and un- 
willing to extinguish in obscurity all chance of fame and for- 

18 



410 MRS. JORDAN. 

tune by means of the profession she had adopted, worked upon 
her daughter to decline the proposaL The treaty accordingly- 
ended, and Lieutenant Doyne appeared to me for a little time 
almost inconsolable. Miss Francis, accompanied by her motlier, 
soon after went over to England, and for nearly twenty years 
I never saw that unrivalled performer. 

Mr. Owenson, the father of Lad}^ Morgan, was at that time 
highly celebrated in the line of Irish characters ; and never 
did an actor exist so perfectly calculated, in my opinion, to 
personify that singular class of people. Considerably above 
six feet in height- — remarkably handsome and brave-looking 
— vigorous and well-shaped — he was not vulgar enough to 
disgust, nor was he genteel enough to be out of character. 
Never did I see any actor so entirely identify- himself with 
the peculiarities of those parts he assumed. In the highest 
class of Irish characters (old officers, &c.) he looked well, but 
did not exhibit sufficient dignity ; and in the lowest, his humor 
was scarcely quaint and original enough ; but, in what might 
be termed the middle class oj" paddies, no man ever combined the 
look and the manner with such felicity as Owenson. Scientific 
singing is not an Irish quality ; and he sang well enough. I 
have heard Jack Johnstone warble so very skilfully, and act 
some parts so very like a man of first-rate education, that I 
almost forgot the nation he was mimicking. That was not the 
case with Gwenson : he acted as if he had not received too 
much schooling, and sang like a man whom nobody had in- 
structed. He was, like most of his profession, careless of his 
concerns, and grew old without growing rich. His last friJRl 
was old Fontaine, a very celebrated Irish dancing-master — 
many years domiciliated and highly esteemed in Dublin. He 
aided Owenson and his family while he had means to do so, 
and, they both died nearly at the same time — instances of 
talent and improvidence. 

This digression I have ventured on, because, in the first 
place, it harmonizes with the theatrical nature of my subject, 
and may be interesting — because it relates to the father of an 
eminent and amiable woman ; and most particularly, because 
I was informed that Mr, Owenson took a warm interest in the 



HER PIIIYATE MEMOIRS CALUMNIES. 411 

welfare of Miss Francis, and was the principal adviser of her 
mother in rejecting Mr. Doyne's addresses. 

After a lapse of many years I chanced to acquire the honor 
of a very favorable introduction to his' royal-highness the duke 
of Clarence, who became the efficient friend of me and of my 
family — not with that high frigid mien which so often renders 
ungracious the favors of authorities in the British government, 
but with the frankness and sincerity of a prince. He received 
and educated my only son with his own, and sent him, as lieu- 
tenant of the fifth dragoon guards, to make his campaigns in 
the Peninsula. This introduction to his royal-highness and 
his family gave me flill and unerring opportunities of knowing, 
of appreciating, and valuing, Mrs. Jordan. In her there was 
no guile ; her heart was conspicuous in every word — her feel- 
ings in every action ; and never did I find, in any character, a 
more complete concentration of every quality that should dis- 
tinguish a mother, a friend, and a gentlewoman. 

The outlines of Mrs. Jordan's public life after her connection 
of twenty-three years with that royal personage are too well 
known to require recital here. But with respect to her more 
private memoirs, so much falsehood and exaggeration have 
gone abroad — so many circumstances have been distorted, and 
so msiXij facts invented — some of the latter possessing sufficient 
plausibility to deceive even the most wary — that, if not a 
duty, it appears at least praiseworthy, to aim at the refutation 
of such calumnies. 

^ have ever felt a great abhorrence of the system of defama- 
t^i on hearsay. Public men, as such, may properly be com- 
mented on. It is the birthright of the British people to speak 
fairly their sentiments of those who rule them ; but libel on 
private reputation is a disgusting excrescence upon the body 
of political freedom, and has latterly grown to an extent so 
dangerous to individuals, and so disgraceful to the press at 
large, that it may hereafter afford plausible pretences for cur- 
tailing the liberty of that organ — the pure and legal exercise 
of Avhich is the proudest and surest guardian of British free- 
dom. The present lax, unrestrained, and vicious exuberance 
of the periodical press, stamps the United Kingdom as the very 



412 MRS. JORDAN. 

focus of libel and defamation in all tlieir ramifications. No 
reputation — no rank — no character, public or private, neither 
the living nor tlie dead, can escape from its licentiousness. 
One comfort may be drawn from the reflection — that it can 
proceed no further ; its next movement must be a retrograde 
one, and I trust the legislature will not permit this retrogres- 
sion to be long deferred. 

That spirit of licentiousness I have been endeavoring to stig- 
matize was never more clearlj instanced than by the indefati- 
gable and reiterated attempts (for several years persevered in) 
to disparage the private reputation of a royal personage, whose 
domestic habits, and whose wise and commendable abstinence 
from political party and conflicting factions, should have ex- 
empted him from the pen and from the tongue of misrepresen- 
tation, and rendered sacred a character which only recjuires 
development to stand as high in the estimation of every man 
who regards the general happiness and power of the empire, 
as that of any member of the illustrious house from which its 
owner springs. On this point I speak not lightly : that which 
I state is neither the mere effusion of gratitude, nor the mean- 
ness of adulation : the royal personage I allude to would not 
commend me for the one, nor would I demean myself by the 
other. 

I can not conclude this digression without reprobating in no 
measured terms that most dangerous of all calumnious tenden- 
cies w^hich endeavors systematically to drag down the highest 
ranks to the level of the lowest, and by laboring to excit^a 
democratic contempt of royal personages, gradually saps iBb 
very foundation of constitutional allegiance: such, however, 
has been a practice of the day, exercised with all the rancor, 
but without any portion of the ability, of Junius. 

It is deeply to be lamented, that this system has been ex- 
emplified by some individuals whose literary celebrity might 
have well afforded them the means of creditable subsistence, 
without endeavoring to force into circulation works of merce- 
nary penmanship by wanton slander of the very highest per- 
sonage in the United Empire. I specify no name : I desig- 
nate no facts ; if they exist not, it is unimportant ; if they are 



IN THE GEEEN-ROOM AND ON THE STAGE. 413 

notorious, tlie application will not be difficult. It is true that 
a libeller can not fully atone — yet be may repent; and even 
tbat mortification would be a better penance to any calumnia- 
tor of distinguished talent than to . run the risk of being 
swamped between the Scylla and Cbarybdis of frivolity and 
disaffection. 
• But to return to tbe accomplished subject of my sketch : — I 
have seen her, as she called it, on a cruise., that is, at a provin- 
cial theatre (Liverpool) ; having gone over once from Dublin 
for that purpose : she was not then in high spirits ; indeed her 
tone, in this respect, was not uniform ; in the mornings she 
usually seemed depressed; at noon she went to rehearsal — 
came home fatigued, dined at three, and then reclined in her 
chamber till it was time to dress for the performance. She 
generally went to the theatre low-spirited. 

I once accompanied Mrs. Jordan to the green-room at Liver- 
pool : Mrs. Alsop and her old maid assiduously attended her. 
She went thither languid and apparently reluctant ; but in a 
quarter of an hour her very nature seemed to undergo a meta- 
morphosis : the sudden change of her manner appeared to me, 
in fact, nearly miraculous ; she walked spiritedly across the 
stage two or three times, as if to measure its extent ; and the 
moment her foot touched the scenic boards, her spirit seemed 
to be regenerated ; she cheered up, hummed an air, stepped 
light and quick, and every symptom of depression vanished ! 
The comic eye and cordial laugh returned upon their enchan- 
ting mistress, and announced that she felt herself moving in 
her proper element. Her attachment to the practice of her 
profession, in fact, exceeded anything I could conceive. 

Mrs. Jordan delighted in talking over past events. She had 
strong impressions of everything; and I could perceive was 
often influenced rather by her feelings than her judgment. 

" How happens it," said I to her, Avhen last in Dublin, " that 
you still exceed all your profession even in characters not so 
adapted to you now as when I first saw you ? How do you 
contrive to be so buoyant — nay, so childish, on the stage, 
while you lose half your spirits, and degenerate into gravity, 
the moment you are off it^" — "Old habits!" replied Mrs. 



414: MRS. JORDAN. 

Jordan, " old habits ! had I formerly studied my positions, 
weighed my words, and measured my sentences, I should have 
been artificial, and they might have hissed me ; so, when I 
had got the words well by heart, I told Nature I was then at 
lier service to do whatever she thought proper with my feet, 
legs, hands, arms, and features : to her I left the whole matter : 
I became, in fact, merely her puppet, and never interfered 
further myself in the business. I heard the audience laugh at 
at me, and I laughed at myself : they laughed again, so did I : 
and they gave me credit for matters I knew very little about, 
and for which Dame Nature, not I, should have received their 
approbation. 

" The best rule for a performer is to forget, if possible, that 
any audience is listening. We perform best of all in our clos- 
ets, and next best to crowded houses : but I scarcely ever saw 
a good performer who was always eying the audience. If," 
continued she, " half the gesticulation, half the wit, drollery, 
and anecdote, which I heard among you all at Ourran's priory, 
at Grattan's cottage, and at your house, had been displayed 
before an au.dience, without your Jcnoiving that anyhody teas lis- 
tening to you, the performance would have been cheered as one 
of the finest pieces of comic acting possible, though, in fact, 
your ovlj plot was endeavoring to get tipsy as agreeably as 
you could." 

This last visit of Mrs. Jordan to the Irish capital took place 
in the year 1809, and afforded me' a still better opportunity of 
eliciting any trait of her nature or disposition. She was greeted 
in that metropolis with all the acclamations that her reputation 
and talent so fully merited : she was well received also among 
some of the best society in Dublin, whose curiosity was excited 
beyond measure to converse with her in private. Here, how- 
ever, she disappointed all ; for there was about her no display 
— and the animated, lively, brilliant mimic, on the boards, was 
in the saloon retiring, quiet, nay, almost reserved. Mrs. 
Jordan, in fact, seldom spoke much in company, but then she 
spoke well : she made no exertion to appear distinguished, and 
became more so by the absence of effort. The performer was 
wholly merged in the gentlewoman ; and thus, although on her 



HEK LAST YISIT TO DUBLESr. 415 

entrance this celebrated person failed to ivipress tlie company, 
she 7iever failed to retire in possession of their respect. 

On that tour she told me was very ill-treated by the mana- 
ger. The understanding was, that Mrs. Jordan was to receive 
half the profits : yet, although the' houses were invariably 
crowded, the receipts were quite inadequate. Many of the 
performers, who had been appointed to act with her, were be- 
low mediocrity, and her presence alone saved them from being 
scouted. One was forgetful — another drunk : I confess I never 
myself saw such a crew. All this rendered Mrs. Jordan mis- 
erable, and she sought relief in the exercise of her benevo- 
lent feelings. Among other objects of her bounty was an old 
actor called Barrett, who had played on the night of her debut, 
and was then in the most indigent circumstances. Him she 
made comfortable ; and gave efficient assistance to several 
others whom she had known in former years. 

The managers, I know not why, acted to her without the 
respect which everyhody., except themselves, had shown that 
most amiable of human beings. She had found it absolutely 
necessary to refuse acting with one or two vulgar, drunken 
fellows, belonging to the set whom they had selected to sustain 
her; and she quitted the country at length, having formed a 
fixed determination never to repeat any engagement with the 
persons who then managed the theatricals of Dublin. 

She had scarcely arrived in England, when some of the 
parties, including one Mr. Dwyer, a player, quarrelled ; and 
actions for defamation were brought forward among them. A 
man )f the name of Corri, also, published periodical libels, in 
one of which he paid Mrs, Jordan the compliment of associa- 
ting her Avith the duchess of Gordon: I and my family had 
likewise the honor of partaking in the abuse of that libel, and. 
I pVosecuted the printer. On the trial of the cause, one of the 
counsel, Mr. Thomas (now Sergeant) Gold, thought proper to 
indulge himself in language and statements respecting Mrs. 
Jordan, neither founded in fact nor delicate in a gentleman. 
In cross-examining me as a witness, on the prosecution of the 
printer, he essayed a line of interrogation disparaging to the 
character of that lady ; but that learned person always took 



416 MES. JOED AN. 

care not to go too far witli me, or to risk offending me in my 
presence : a monosyllable, or an intimation even, I ever found 
quite sufficient to check tlie exuberance of " my learned 
friend;" and on tliis occasion lie was not backward in taking 
my hint : he grew tame, the libeller was found guilty, and 
justly sentenced to a protracted im.prisonment. 

I never knew Mrs. Jordan feel so much as at the wanton 
conduct of Mr. Thomas Gold on that occasion : his speech, as 
it appeared in the newspapers, was too gross even for the vul- 
garest declaimer ; but when Mrs. Jordan's situation, her family, 
and her merits, were considered, it was altogether inexcusable. 
I do not state this feeling of Mrs. Jordan solely from my own 
impression : I received from her a letter indicative of the 
anguish which that gentleman had excited in her feelings, and 
I should do injustice to her memory if I did not publish her 
justification : — 

"Bushy House, Wednesday. 

" My Dear Sir : Not having the least suspicion of the busi- 
ness in Dublin, it shocked and grieved me very much ; not 
only on my own account, but I regret that I should have been 
the involuntary cause of anything painful to you, or to your 
amiable family. But of Mr. Jones I can think anything : and I 
beg you will do me the justice to believe that my feelings are 
not selfish. Why, indeed, should I expect to escape their 
infamous calumnies ? Truth, however, will force its way, and 
justice exterminate that nest of vipers. I wanted nothing 
from Mr. Orompton's generosity, but I had a claim on his jus- 
tice — his honor, * * * * 

" During the two representations of ' The Inconstant,' I rep- 
resented to him the state Mr. Dwyer was in, and implored him, 
out of respect to the audience, if not in pity to my terrors, to 
change the play. As to the libel on Mr. Dwyer, charged to 
me by Mr. Gold, I never directly or indirectly, by words or by 
writing, demeaned myself by interfering in the most remote 
degree with so wretched a concern. I knevv^ no editor, I read 
no newspapers, while in Dublin. The charge is false and libel- 
lous on me, published, I presume, through Mr. Gold's assist- 
ance. Under that view of the case, he will feel himself rather 



CONTINUANCE ON THE STAGE. 417 

unpleasantly circumstanced, siiould I call upon him to either 
prove or disavow his assertions. To be introduced any way 
into such a business, shocks and grieves me : he might have 
pleaded for his companions without calumniating me ; but, for 
the present, I shall drop an irksome subject, which has already 
given me more than ordinary uneasiness. 

" Yours, &c. " Dora Jordan." 

*Att -^u M^ j^ -iU -iU 

•TT "A* TV* W TV* "TV" 

She req[uested my advice as to bringing an action for defa- 
mation. My reply was one that I had heard most adroitly 
given by Sir John Doyle, upon another occasion : " If you 
wrestle with a chimney-sweeper, it is true you may throw your 
antagonist; but your own coat Avill certainly be dirtied by the 
encounter." 

Never was there a better aphorism. Mrs. Jordan took my 
advice, and satisfied herself with despising instead of punish- 
ing her calumniators. 

I have seen this accomplished woman at Bushy in the midst 
of one of the finest families in England, surrounded by splen- 
dor, beloved, respected, and treated with all the deference 
paid to a member of high life. I could perceive, indeed, no 
offset to her comforts and gratification. She was, in my hear- 
ing, frequently solicited by the royal personage to retire from 
her profession ; she was urged to forego all further emoluments 
from its pursuit : and this single fact gives the contradiction 
direct to reports which I should feel it improper even to allude 
to further. Her constant reply was, that she would retire 
when Mrs. Siddons did ; but that her losses by the fire at 
Oovent-Garden, together Avith other incidental outgoings, had 
been so extensive, as to induce her continuance of the profes- 
sion to replace her finances. Her promise to retire with Mrs. 
Siddons, however, she did not act up to, but continued to grat- 
ify the public, with enormous profit to herself, down to the very 
last year she remained in England. It is matter of fact, too, 
though perhaps here out of place, that, so far from a desertion 
of this lady by that royal personage, as falsely reported, to 
the last hour of her life his solicitude was undiminished ; and 
though separated by her own desire, for causes not discredita- 

18* 



418 MRS. JORDAN. 

ble to either, lie never lost siglit of lier interest or lier comforts. 
It was not the nature of his royal highness — he was incapable 
of that little less than crime toward Mrs. Jordan — which had, 
indeed, no foundation, save in the vicious representation of 
hungry or avaricious editors, or in the scurrility of those hack- 
neyed and indiscriminate, enemies of rank and reputation, 
whose aspersions are equally a disgrace and an injury to the 
country wherein they are tolerated. 

To contribute toward the prevention of all further doubt as 
to Mrs. Jordan's unmixed happiness at the period of her resi- 
dence at Bushy, as well as to exhibit the benevolence of her 
heart and the warmth of her attachments, I will introduce at 
this point extracts from some other letters addressed to myself : 

" Bushy. 
" My Dear Sir : I can not resist the pleasure of informing 
you that your dear boy has not only passed, but passed with 
great credit, at the military college : it gives us all the highest 
satisfaction. My two beloved boys are now at home : they have 
both gone to South hill to see your Edward. We shall have 
a full and merry house at Christmas ; 'tis what the dear duke 
delights in : a happier set, when all together, I believe never 
yet existed. The . ill-natured parts of the world never can 
enjoy the tranquil pleasures of domestic happiness. 

jf, a/f ^ ^ M, a> ^U 

TT vv" ^ "St tt ^ ^ 

" I have made two most lucrative trips since I saw you. Ad- 
kinson came to see me at Liverpool — quite as poetical as ever, 
and the best-natured poet, I believe, in the world. 

" Yours, ever truly, " Dora Jordan." 

"Bushy. 
*' My Dear Sir : I have returned here on the 7th inst., after 
a very fatiguing though very prosperous cruise of five weeks, 
and found all as well as I could wish. Your Edward left us 
this morning for Marlow : I found him improved in everything. 
I never saw the duke enjoy anything more than the poultry 
you sent us ; they were delicious : he desires me to offer his 
best regards to yourself and your ladies. Lucy is gone on a 
visit to Lady De Eoss. 

" Yours, most truly, " Dora Jordan." 



EXTEACTS FEOM HEE LETTEES. 419 

" Bushy. 

"My Dear Sir : I have returned here— but, alas ! the hap- 
piness I had promised to myself has met a cruel check at find- 
ing: the a'ood duke verv unwell. You can scarcelv conceive 
my misery at the cause of such a disappointment : hut there is 
every appearance of a favorable result not being very distant ; 
'tis his old periodical attack, but not near so severe as I have 
seen it. I shall not write to you, as I intended, till I can an- 
nounce his royal highness's recovery. I shall have neither 
head nor nerves to write, or even to think, till I am able to 
contribute to your pleasure, by announcing my own happiness 
and his recovery. * * * * , &c. 

" Dora Jordan." 
"Sir J. Barrixgtox, ) 

^^Merrion square, Dublin." ) 

" Bushy. 

" \Ye have just returned from Maidenhead ; and I postponed 
writing to you till I could give you an account of Edward, who, 
with Colonel Butler, dined with us there: he looks wonder- 
fully well, and the uniform becomes him extremely. On the 
ladies leaving the room, Colonel Butler gave the duke a very 
favorable account of him ; and I trust it will give you and 
Lady Barrington the more satisfaction, when I assure you that 
it is by no means a partial account. 

" I am sure you will be pleased to hear that your young 
friend Lucy is about to be married, miucli to my satisfaction, 
to Colonel Hawker, of the 14th dragoons. He is a most ex- 
cellent man, and has a very good private property. She will 
make the best of wives — a better girl never yet lived. It 
makes me quite happy, and I intend to give her the value of 
ten thousand pounds. * * * *^ &;c. 

"Dora Jordan." 

The days of Mrs. Jordan continued to pass on alternately 
in the exercise of a lucrative profession, and the domestic en- 
joyment of an adoring family, when circumstances (which, be- 
cause onysterious, the public construed necessarily to imply 
culpability somewhere or other) occasioned a separation — cer- 
tainly an event most unexpected by those who had previously 



420 MRS. JOEDAN. 

known the liappy state of her connection. In me it would he 
worse than presumption to enter into any detail on a subject 
at once so private, so delicate, and so interesting. Suffice it 
to say that, of all the accounts and surmises as to that event 
in which the puhlic prints were pleased to indulge themselves, 
not one that came under my eye was true. Indeed, there was 
scarcely a single incident whereto that separation was publicly 
attributed, that had any degree of foundation whatsoever. 
Such circumstances should ever remain known only to those 
who feel the impropriety of amusing the readers at a news- 
room with subjects of domestic pain and family importance. I 
will, however, repeat that the separation took eifect from 
causes no way dishonorable to either party: that it was not 
sought for by the royal personage, nor necessary on the part 
of the lady. It was too hasty to be discreet, and too much in- 
fluenced by feelings of the moment to be hearty. Though not 
unacquainted with those circumstances, I never presumed to 
make an observation upon the subject, save to contradict, in 
direct terms, statements which, at the time I heard them, I 
knew to be totally unfounded ; and never was the British press 
more prostituted than in the malicious coloring given upon that 
occasion to the conduct of his royal highness. 

General Hawker, one of the late king's aids-de-camp, had 
married Miss Jordan ; and in the punctilious honor and integ- 
rity of this gentleman, everybody who knew and knoAvs him 
did and does rely with unmixed confidence. Such reliance 
his royal highness evinced by sending, through him, carte 
hlanclie to Mrs. Jordan, when the separation had been deter- 
mined on, enabling her to dictate whatever she conceived 
would be fully adequate to her maintenance, without recur- 
rence to her profession, in all the comforts and luxuries to 
which she had been so long accustomed; and everything she 
wished for was arranged to her satisfaction. Still, however, infat- 
uated with attachment to theatrical pursuits, she continued to 
accept of temporary engagements to her great profit : and it 
will perhaps scarcely be credited that so unsated were British 
audiences v/ith Mrs. Jordan's unrivalled performances, that 
even at her time of life, with certainly diminished powers and 



liEK EETIREMEJ^JT TO FEANCE. 421 

an altered person, tlie very last year slie remained in England 
brought her a clear profit of near seven thousand pounds ! I' 
can not he mistaken in this statement, for my authority could 
not err on that point. The malicious representations, there- 
fore, of her having been left straitened in pecuniary circum- 
stances, were literally fabulous ; for, to the very moment of 
her death, she remained in full possession of all the means of • 
comfort — nay, if she chose it, of luxury and splendor. Why, 
therefore, she emigrated, pined away, and expired in a foreign 
country (of whose language she was ignorant, and in whose 
hahits she was w^holly unversed), with every appearance of ne- 
cessity, is also considered a mystery hy those unacquainted with 
the cruel and disastrous circumstances which caused that un- 
fortunate catastrophe. It is not hy my pen that miserable 
story shall be told. It was a transaction wherein her royal 
friend had, directly or indirectly, no concern, nor did it in any 
way spring out of that connection. She had, in fact, only to 
accuse herself of benevolence, confidence, and honor : to those 
demerits, and to the worse than ingratitude of others, she fell 
a lingering, broken-hearted victim. 

When his royal highness was informed of the determination 
that Mrs. Jordan should take up a temporary residence on the 
continent, he insisted on her retaining the attendance of Miss 
Kitchley, who for many years had been attached to the estab- 
lishment at Bushy, and was superintendent and governess of 
the duke's children. This lady, therefore, whose sincere at- 
tachment had been so long and truly proved, accompanied Mrs. 
Jordan as her companion, and to the time of her death contin- 
ued to minister to her comforts — endeavoring, so far as in her 
lay, by her society and attentions, to solace the mental misery 
which pressed upon her friend's health and had extinguished 
her spirits. She was also accompanied by Colonel Hawker, the 
general's brother : but, as she wished, during her residence in 
France, to be totally retired, she took no suite. She selected 
Boulogne as a place of convenient proximity to England ; and, 
in a cottage half a mile from that town, awaited with indescri- 
bable anxiety the completion of those aftairs which had occa- 
sioned her departure, rapturously anticipating the happiness 
of embracing her children afresh after a painful absence. 



422 ]vms. JOED AN in feance. 



MES. JOEDAN IN FRANCE. 

Decline of Mrs. Jordan's Health — Description of her Cottage and Grounds at Boulogne-sur- 
Mer — Madame Ducamp and her Servant Agnes — Their Account of Mrs. Jordan's Habits 
and Manners — Removal of that Lady to Versailles, and subsequently to St. Cloud — Ac- 
count of her Illness and Last Moments. 

Such was the nature of the circumstances which impelled 
Mrs. Jordan to repair to the continent ; and, after what has 
been said, the reader will not think it extraordinary that a 
deep impression was made upon her health — not, indeed, in 
the shape of actual disease, but by the workings of a troubled 
spirit, pondering and drooping over exaggerated misfortunes, 
and encountering obstacle after obstacle. Estranged from 
those she loved, as also from that profession the resort to 
which had never failed to restore her animation and amuse 
her fancy, mental malady soon communicated its contagion 
to the physical organization, and sickness began to make visi- 
ble inroads on the heretofore healthy person of that lamented 
lady. 

We have seen that she established herself, in the first place, 
at Boulogne-sur-Mer. A cottage was selected by her at Mar- 
quetra, about a quarter of a mile from the gate of the fortress. 
Often have I since, as if on classic ground, strolled down the 
little garden which had been there her greatest solace. The 
cottage is very small, but neat, commodious, and of a cheerful 
aspect. A flower and fruit garden of corresponding dimen- 
sions, and a little paddock (comprising less than half an acre) 
formed her demesne. In an adjoining cottage resided her old 
landlady, Madame Ducamp, who was in a state of competence, 
and altogether an original. She had married a gardener, much 
younger and of humbler birth than herself. I think she had 
been once handsome ; her story I never heard fully ; but it 
appeared that she had flourished during the revolution. 
She spoke English well, when she pleased; and, like most 
French women, when dJage mur, was querulous, intrusive, and 
curious heyond limitation, with as much professed good nature as 



MADAME DUCAMP AND HEK SERYAXT AGXES. 423 

would serve at least fifty of our old Eiigllsli gentlewoman. 
Slie was not, in good trutli, devoid of the reality as well as tlie 
semblance of that quality : but she overacted the philanthropist, 
and consequently did not deceive those accustomed to look 
lower than the surface. This good lady is still in statu qiio, 
and most likely to remain so. 

Under color of taking her vacant cottage for a friend, a 
party of us went to Marquetra, to learn what we could respect- 
ing Mrs. Jordan's residence there. The old lady recognised 
her name, but pronounced it in a way which it was scarcely 
possible for us to recognise. A long conversation ensued, in 
some parts as deej\ly interesting, and in others nearly as ludi- 
crous as the subject could admit of. Madame Ducamp repeated 
to us a hundred times, in five minutes, that she had " beaucoup 
heaucoup de veneration pour cette chere, chere malheureuse 
dame Anglaise !" whom she assured us, with a deep sigh, was 
"sans doute un ange superieur!" She was proceeding to tell 
us everything she knew, or I suppose could invent, when, 
perceiving a child in the garden pulling the flowers, she 
abruptly discontinued her eulogium, and ran off to drive away 
the intruder — having done which, she returned to resume : but 
too late ! in her absence her place had been fully and fairly 
occupied by Agnes, an ordinary French girl, Madame Du- 
camp's honne (servant of all work), whom we soon found was 
likely to prove a much more truth-telling person than her 
mistress. 

Agnes informed us, with great feeling, that *' the economy 
of that charming lady was very strict : necessaircment, je crains,''^ 
added she, with a slow movement of her head and a truly 
eloquent look. They had found out (she said) that their 
lodger had been once riche et magnijique, but when there she 
was very — ?:er?/ poor indeed. " But," exclaimed the poor girl, 
her eye brightening up and her tone becoming firmer, " that 
could make no difference to me! si f aime, f aime ! J'ai servi 
cette pauvre dame avec le meme zele (peut-ctre encore plus) que si 
elle cut ete U7ie princesse r^ 

This frank-hearted display of poor Agnes' sentiments was, 
however, not in fact called for in speaking of Mrs. Jordan, 



424 MRS. JORDAN m FRANCE. 

since she might have commanded, during the whole period of 
her continental residence, any sums she thought proper. She 
had money in the bank, in the funds, and in miscellaneous 
property, and had just before received several thousands. But 
she was become nearly careless, as well of pecuniary as other 
matters, and took up a whim .(for it was nothing more) to afPect 
poverty, thus deceiving the world, and giving, herself, a van- 
tage ground to the gossiping and censorious. 

Agnes' information went on to show that Mrs. Jordan's 
whole time was passed in anxious expectation of letters from 
England, and on the English postdays she was peculiarly 
miserable. We collected from the girl that her garden and 
guitar were her only resources against that consuming melan- 
choly which steals away even the elements of existence, and 
plunges both body and mind into a state of morbid languor — 
the fruitful parent of disease, insanity, and death. 

At this point of the story, Madame Ducamp would no longer 
be restrained, and returned to the charge with redoubled 
assertions of her own friendship to " the poor lady," and honne 
nature in general. 

"Did you know her, monsieur?" said she: ''alas! she 
nearly broke my heart by trying to break lier ownP 

" I have heard of her since I arrived here, madame," replied 
I cautiously. 

" Ah ! monsieur, monsieur," rejoined Madame Ducamp, " if 
you had known her as well as Agnes and I did, you would 
have loved her just as mxuch. I am sure she had been accus- 
tomed to grandeur, though I could never clearly make out the 
cause of her reverses. Ah !" pursued madame, *' she was amia- 
ble et honnete beyond description ; and though so very poor, 
paid her louage like a goddess." At this moment some other 
matter, perhaps suggested by the word louage, came across the 
old Avoman's brain, and she again trotted off. The remaining 
intelligence which we gathered from Agnes, related chiefly to 
Mrs. Jordan's fondness for music and perpetual indulgence 
therein — and to her own little achievements in the musical 
way, whereby, she told us with infinite naivete, she had fre- 
quently experienced the gratification of playing and singing 



A CONFUSION OF TONGUES. 425 

madame to sleep ! She said tliat there was some little mutual 
difficulty in the first place as to tinderstanding each other, since 
the stranger was ignorant of the French language, and she 
herself '• had not the honor" to speak English. " However," 
continued Agnes, " we formed a sort of language of our own, 
consisting of looks and signs, and in these madame was more 
eloquent than any other person I had ever known." Here the 
girl's recollections seemed fairly to overcome her ; and with 
that apparently exaggerated sensibility which is, nevertheless, 
natural to the character of her country, she burst into tears, 
exclaiming, " Oli ciel ! oh del ! — elle est morte ! elle est morte .'"* 

I can not help thinking that the deep and indelible impres- 
sion thus made by Mrs. Jordan upon an humble unsophisticated 
servant-girl, exemplifies her kind and winning manners better 
than would the most labored harangues of a whole host of 
biographers. 

Madame Ducamp meanwhile had been fidgeting about, and 
arranging everything to show ofp her cottage to the greatest 

* The intermixed Freneli phrases which I have retained in sketching this 
conversation at Marqnetra may, perhaps, appear affected to some; and I 
frankly admit, there are few things in composition so disagreeable to me, as 
a jumble of words culled from different tongues, and constituting a melange 
"which advances no just claim to the title of any language whatever. But 
those who ai*e accustomed to the familiar terms and expressive ejaculations 
of French colloquy, know that the idiomatic mode of expression only can 
convey the true point and spirit of the dialogue, and more particularly does 
this observation apply to the variegated traits of character belonging to 
French females. 

The conversation with Agnes consisted, on her part, nearly of broken 
sentences throughout — I may say, almost of looks and monosyllables! at all 
events, of simple and expressive words in a combination utterly unadapted 
to the English tongue. Let a well-educated and unprejudiced gentleman 
hold converse on the same topics with an English and a French girl, and 
his remarks as to the difference will not fail to illustrate what I have said. 

Far — very far be it from me, to depreciate the fair ones of our own coun- 
try. I believe that they are steadier and better calculated to describe facts, 
or to advise in an emergency : but they must not be offended with me for 
adding, that in the expression of every feeling, either of a lively or tearful 
nature, as well as in the graces of motion, their elastic neighbors are im- 
measurably superior. Even their eyes speak idioms which our less pliable 
language can not explain. I have seen liumble girls in France who speak 
more in one second than many of our finest ladies could utter in almost a 
century! ChaqiHun a so7i gout, however ; and I honestly confess, that a 
sensitive French girl would make but an ill-assorted match with a thorough- 
bred John Bull. 



426 MRS. JOEDAN IN FEANCE, 

advantage ; and without farther conversation, except as to the 
price of the tenement, we parted with mutual " assurances of 
the highest consideration." 

I renewed my visits to the old woman ; but her stories were 
either so fabulous or disconnected, and those of Agnes so un- 
varied, that I saw no probability of acquiring further informa- 
tion, and lost sight of Mrs. Jordan's situation for a considerable 
time after her departure from Boulogne. I thought it, by-the- 
by, very extraordinary, that neither the mistress nor maid said 
a word about any attendant of Mrs. Jordan, even although it 
was not till long after that I heard of Col. Hawker and Miss 
Kitchley having accompanied her from England. After Mrs. 
Jordan had left Boulogne, it appears that she repaired to Ver- 
sailles, and subsequently, in still greater secrecy, to St. Cloud, 
where, totally secluded and under the name of Johnson, she 
continued to await, in a state of extreme depression and with 
agitated impatience, the answer to some letters, by which was 
to be determined her future conduct as to the distressing busi- 
ness that had led her to the continent. Her solicitude arose 
not so much from the real importance of this affair as from her 
indignation and disgust at the ingratitude which had been 
displayed toward her, and which, by drawing aside the curtain 
from before her unwilling eyes, had exposed a novel and pain- 
ful view of human nature. 

I at that period occupied a large hotel adjoining the Bois 
de Boulogne. Not a mile intervened between us : yet, until 
long after Mrs. Jordan's decease, I never heard she was in my 
neighborhood. There was no occasion whatever for such en- 
tire seclusion ; but the anguish of her mind had by this time 
so enfeebled her, that a bilious complaint was generated, and 
gradually increased. Its growtli, indeed, did not appear to 
give her much uneasiness — so dejected and lost had she 
become. Day after day her misery augmented, and at length 
she seemed, we Avere told, actually to regard the approach of 
dissolution with a kind of placid welcome. 

The apartments she occupied at St. Cloud were in a house 
in the square adjoining the palace. This house was large, 
gloomy, cold, and inconvenient ; just the sort of place, which 



HEE ABODE AT ST. CLOIJD. 427 

wonld tell in description in a romance. In fact it looked to 
me almost in a state of dilapidation. I conld not, I am sure, 
wander over it at night without a superstitious feeling. The 
rooms were numerous, but small ; the furniture scanty, old, 
and tattered. The hotel had obviously once belonged to 
gome nobleman, and a long, lofty, flagged gallery stretched 
from one wing of it to the other. Mrs. Jordan's chambers 
were shabby : no English comforts solaced her in her latter 
moments ! In her little drawing-room, a small old sofa was 
the best-looking piece of furniture : on this she constantly re- 
clined, and on it she expired.* 

The account given to us of her last moments, by the master 
of the house, was very affecting : he likewise thought she was 
poor, and offered her the use of money, which offer was of 
course declined. Nevertheless, he said, he always considered 
her apparent poverty, and a magnificent diamond ring which 
she constantly wore, as quite incompatible, and to him inex- 
plicable. I have happened to learn since, that she gave four 
hundred guineas for that superb ring. She had also with her, 
as I heard, many other valuable trinkets ; and on her death, 
seals were put upon all her effects, which I understand still 
remain unclaimed by any legal heir. 

From the time of her arrival at St. Cloud, it appears, Mrs. 
Jordan had exhibited the most restless anxiety for intelli- 
gence from England. Every post gave rise to increased solici- 
tude, and every letter she received seemed to have a differ- 
ent effect on her feelings. Latterly she appeared more anxious 
and miserable than usual : her uneasiness increased almost 
momentarily, and her skin became wholly discolored. From 
morning till night, she lay sighing upon her sofa. 

* When I saw Mrs. Jordan's abode at St. Cloud first, it was on a dismal 
and eliilly day, and I was myself in. corresponding mood. Hence perhaps 
every cheerless object was exaggerated, and I wrote on the spot the above 
description. I have again viewed the place: again beheld with melancholy 
Interest the sofa on which Mrs. Jordan breathed her last. There it still, I 
believe, remains; but the whole premises have been repaired, and an English 
family now has one wing, together with an excellent garden, before over- 
grown with weeds; the two melancholy cypress-trees I first saw there, yet 
remain. The surrounding prospect is undoubtedly very fine; but I would 
not, even were I made a present of that mansion, consent to reside in it one 
month. 



428 MRS. JOEDAN IN FEAKCE. 

At lengtli an interval of some posts occurred, during wliicli 
she received no answers to lier letters, and her consequent 
anxiety, my informant said, seemed too great for mortal 
strength to bear up against. On the morning of her death, 
this impatient feeling reached its crisis. The agitation was 
almost fearful; her eye was now restless, now ^ fixed; her 
motion rapid and unmeaning ; and her whole manner seemed 
to bespeak the attack of some convulsive paroxysm. She 
eagerly requested Mr. . . ., before the usual hour of deliv- 
ery, to go for lier letters to the post. On his return, she started 
up and held out her hand, as if impatient to receive them. 
He told here tJiere were none. She stood a moment motion- 
less ; looked toward him with a vacant stare; held out her 
hand again ; as if by an involuntary action ; instantly with- 
drew it, and sank back upon the sofa from which she had 
arisen. He left the room to send up her attendant, who how- 
ever had gone out, and Mr. . . . returned himself to Mrs. 
Jordan. On his return, he observed some change in her looks 
that alarmed him : she spoke not a word, but gazed at him 
steadfastly. She wept not — no tear flowed : her face was one 
moment flushed and another livid : she sighed deeply, and her 
heart seemed bursting. Mr. . . . stood uncertain what to 
do : but in a minute he heard her breath drawn more hardly 
and as it were sobbingly. He was now thoroughly terrified : 
he hastily approached the sofa, ai^d leaning over the unfortu- 
nate lady discovered that those deep-drawn sobs had immedi- 
ately preceded the moment of Mrs. Jordan's dissolution. She 
was alread;^ no more ! 

Thus terminated the worldly career of a woman at the very 
head of her profession, and one of the best-hearted of her sex ! 
Thus did she expire, after a life of celebrity and magnificence, 
in exile and solitude, and literally of a broken heart ! She 
was btiried by Mr. Foster, now chaplain to the embassador. 

Our informant told this little story with a feeling which evi- 
dently was not affected. The French have a mode of naiTa- 
ting even trivial matters, with gesticulation and detail, where- 
by they are impressed on your memory. The slightest inci- 
dent they repeat with emphasis ; and on this occasion Mr. 



DIVERSITY OF THE AUTHOr's PURSUITS. 429 

. . . completed his account without any of those digressions 
in which his countrymen so frequently indulge. 

Several English friends at Paris, a few years ago, entered 
into a determination to remove Mrs. Jordan's body to Pere le 
Chaise, and place a marble over her grave. The subscription, 
had the plan been proceeded in, would have been ample ; but 
some (I think rather mistaken) ideas of delicacy at that time 
suspended its execution. As it is, I believe I may say, " Not 
a stone tells where she lies !" But, spirit of a gentle, affec- 
tionate, and excellent human being! receive, if permitted, the 
aspirations breathed by one who knew thy virtues (and who 
regrets, while he bows to the mysterious providence which 
doomed them to so sad an extinction) for thy eternal repose 
and happiness ! 



MEMOEY. 

Diversity of the Authoi-'s Pursuits — Superficial Acquirements contrasted with Solid — Vari- 
ety and Change of Study conducive to Health— Breedina: Ideas — How to avoid Ennui 
— -The Principles of Memory and Fear — The Author'a Tlieory respecting the Former, 
and his Motive for its Introduction. 

My pursuits from my earliest days have been (right or 
wrong) all of my own selection : some of these were rather of 
a whimsical character ; others merely adapted pow fasser le 
temps ; a few of a graver and more solid cast. On the whole, 
I believe I may boast that few persons, if any, of similar stand- 
ing in society, have had a greater variety of occupations than 
myself. 

The trath is, I never suffered my mind to stagnate one 
moment ; and unremittingly sought to bring it so far under my 
own control, as to be enabled to turn its energies at all times, 
promptly and without difficulty, from the lightest pursuits to 
the most serious business ; and, for the time being, to occupy it 
exclusively on a single subject. 

My system (if such it may be called) led me to fancy a gen- 
eral dabbling in all sciences, arts, and literature — just suffi- 
cient to feed my intellect, and keep my mind busy and afloat 



430 MEMORY. 

without being overloaded : thus, I dipped irregularly into nu- 
merous elementary treatises, embracing a great variety of sub- 
jects — among which, even theology, chemistry, physic, anat- 
omy, and architecture (to say nothing of politics or mathemat- 
ics), were included. In a word, I looked into every species 
of publication I could lay my hands on : and I never have 
been honored by one second of ennui, or felt a propensity to 
an hour's languor during my existence. 

This fanciful — the reader may, if he pleases, say superficial 
and frivolous species of self-education — would, I doubt not, be 
scouted with contempt by learned LL. D.'s, bachelors of arts, 
fellows of colleges, wranglers at universities, &c. These gen- 
tlemen very properly saturate their capacities with more solid 
stuff, each imbibing even to the dregs one or two dignified, 
substantial sciences, garnished with dead languages, and served 
up to their pupils with a proper seasoning of pedantry and im- 
portance. Thus they enjoy the gratification of being wiser 
than their neighbors without much troubling their organs of 
variety — a plan, I readily admit, more appropriate to learn- 
ing and philosophy, and perhaps more useful to others : but, 
at the same time, I contend that mine (and I sJDeak with the 
experience of a long life) is conducive in a greater degree to 
pleasure, to health, to happiness ; and, I shrewdly suspect, far 
more convenient to the greater number of capacities. 

A certain portion of external and internal variety, like 
change of air, keeps the animal functions in due activity, while 
it renders the mind supple and elastic, and more capable of 
accommodating itself with promptitude to those difficult and 
trying circumstances into which the vicissitudes of life may 
plunge it. I admire and respect solid learning; but even a 
superficial knowledge of a variety of subjects tends to excite 
that inexhaustible succession of thoughts which, at hand on 
every emergency, gives tone and vigor to both the head and 
heart, not unfrequently excluding more unwelcome visiters. 

All my life I perceived the advantage of hreeding ideas : the 
brain can never be too populous, so long as you keep its inhab- 
itants in that wholesome state of discipline that tJiey arc under 
you?' command, and not you under tfieirs ; and, above all things, 



PEESERYATION OF SIGHT. 431 

never suffer a mob of tliem to come jostling each otlier in your 
head at a time : keep them as distinct as possible, or it is a 
hundred to one they will make a blockhead of you at last ! 

From this habit it lias ensued that the longest day is always 
too short for me. When in tranquil mood, I find my ideas as 
playful as kittens ; when chagrined, consolatory fancies are 
never wanting. If I grow weary of thoughts relating to the 
present, my memory carries m.e back fifty or sixty years with 
equal jDoliteness and activity ; and never ceases shifting — 
time, j)lace, and person — till it beats out something that is 
agreeable. 

I had naturally very feeble sight. At fifty years of age, to 
my extreme surprise, I found it had strengthened so much as 
to render the continued use of spectacles unnecessary ; and 
now I can peruse the smallest print without any glass, and can 
write a. hand so minute, that I know several elderly gentle- 
men of my own decimal who can not conquer it even with 
their reading-glasses. For general use, I remark that I have 
found my sight more confused by poring for a given length of 
time over one book, than in double that time when shifting 
from one print to another, and changing the place I sat in, and 
of course the quality of light and reflection. To a neglect of 
such precautions, I attribute many of the weak and near vis- 
ions so common with students. 

But another quality of inestimable value I possess, thank 
Heaven, in a degree which, at my time of life, if not supernat- 
ural, is not very far from it — a memory of the greatest and 
most wide-ranging powers : its retrospect is astonishing to my- 
self, and has wonderfully increased since my necessary appli- 
cation to a single science has been dispensed with. The rec- 
ollection of one early incident of our lives never fails to intro- 
duce another; and the marked occurrences of my life from 
childhood to the wrong side of a grand climacteric are at this 
moment fresh in my memory, in all their natural tints, as at 
the instant of their occurrence. 

Without awarding any extraordinary merit either to the 
brain or to those human organs that are generally regarded as 
the scat of recollection or rather retention of ideas, I think 



432 * MEMORY. 

this fact may be accounted for in a mucli simpler way — more 
on pMlosopliical than on organic principles. I do not insist on 
my theory being a true one ; but as it is, liiie Touchstone's 
forest-treasure, " my own," I like it, and am content to hold 
by it " for better or for worse." 

The two qualities of the human mind with which we are 
most strongly endowed in childhood are those of fear and 
memory ; both of which accompany us throughout all our 
worldly peregrinations — with this difference, that with age 
the one generally declines, while the other increases. 

The mind has a tablet whereon Mem^ory begins to engrave 
occurrences even in our earliest days, and which in old age is 
full of her handywork, so that there is no room for any more 
inscriptions. Hence old people recollect occurrences long past 
better than those of more recent date ; and though, an old per- 
son can faithfully recount the exploits of his schoolfellows, he 
will s-carcely recollect what he himself was doing the day be- 
fore yesterday ! 

It is also observable that the recollection, at an advanced 
period, of the incidents of childhood, does not require that ex- 
tent of memory which at first sight may appear essential ; 
neither is it necessary to bound at once over the wide gulf of 
life betw-een sixty years and three. 

Memory results from a connected sequence of thought and 
observation : so that intervening occurrences draw up the rec- 
ollection, as it were, to preceding ones, and thus each fresh- 
excited act of remembrance in fact operates as a new incident. 
When a person recollects well (as one is apt to do) a correc- 
tion which he received in his childhood, or while a schoolboy, 
he probably owes his recollection, not to the whipping, but to 
the naTYie of the hook which he was whipped for neglecting ; 
and whenever the book is occasionally mentioned, the whip- 
ping IS recalled, revived, and perpetuated, in the memory. 

I once received a correction at school, when learning pros- 
ody, for falsely pronouncing the word semisopiius ; and though 
this was between fifty and sixty years ago, I have never since 
heard prosody mentioned, but I have recollected that word, 
and had the schoolmaster and his rod clearly before my eyes. 



VAEIES m DIFFEEENT INDIVIDUALS. 433 

I even recollect the very leaf of tlie book whereon tlie word 
was printed. Every time I look into a book of poetry, I mnst 
of course think of prosody, and prosody suggests semisopifus, 
and brings before me, on tlie instant, the scene of my disgrace. 

This one example is sufficient for my theory, and proves 
also the advantage of breeding ideas, since the more links to 
a chain the farther it reaches. 

The faculty of memory varies in individuals almost as much 
as their features. One man may recollect names, dates, pages, 
numbers, admirably, who does not well remember incidents or 
anecdotes ; and a linguist will retain fifty thousand words, not 
one tenth part of which a wit can bury any depth in his rec- 
ollection. 

This admission may tend to excite doubts and arguments 
against the general application of my theory : but I aim not 
at making proselytes ; indeed, I have only said thus much, to 
anticipate observations, which may naturally be made respect- 
ing the extent to which my memory has carried the retention 
of bygone circumstancces, and to allay the skepticism which 
might perhaps otherwise follow. 



POLITICAL CONDUCT OF THE AUTHOE. 

Letter from the Author to Mr. Burne, relating to the Political Conduct of the Former at 
the Period of the Union — p]xtracts from Letters written to the Author by Lord West- 
moreland — General Reflections on the Political Condition of Ireland at the Present Time 
— Hint toward the Revival of a curious old Statute — Cleiical Justices — The King in Ire- 
land — The Corporation of Dublin — The " Glorious Memory" — Catholics and Protestants 
—Mischievous Virulence of Party Feeling. 

. The introduction of the following letter and extracts (though 
somewhat digressive from my original intention in compiling 
this work) is important to me, notwithstanding they relate to 
times so long passed by ; inasmuch as certain recent calumnies 
assiduously propagated against me demanded at my hands a 
justification of my conduct toward government at the period 
of the union. With this view, the letter in question was writ- 
ten to my friend Mr. Burne, whom I req[uested to communicate 

19 



434: POLITICAL co:nddct of the author. 

its contents to my connections in Dublin, or indeed to any 
person who might have been prejudiced against me by those 
aspersions. Having, however, reason to fear that only a very 
partial circulation of my letter took place, I have adopted this 
opportunity of giving it full publicity by mixing it up with 
these sketches : — 

"Paris, Rtje de Eichelieu, May 2, 1825. 

"My Dear Friend : I am Avell aware that the reports you 
mention, as to my ' having broken trust with the government 
in the years 1799 and 1800,' had been at one period most 
freely circulated : but I could scarcely suppose the same would 
be again and lately revived, to do me injury on a very impor- 
tant concern. This has not been altogether withou.t its opera- 
tion, and I feel it a duty to myself unec[ui vocally to refute 
such imputation. The fact is proved in few words : I could 
not break my trust with the government, for I nevei- accepted 
any trust from them. I never entered into any stipulation or 
political engagement Avith any government ; and every public 
act which I did — every instance of support which I gave — 
resulted from my own free agency and unbiased judgment. 

" My first return to parliament, in the year 1790, for the city 
of Tuam, was altogether at my own expense. I had once before 
stood a contested election for Ballynakill, formerly my father's 
borough. I was under no tie nor obligation to the government : 
I had not then, nor have I ever had, any patron ; I never, in 
fact, solicited patronage : I never submitted to the dictation 
of any man in my life : my connection with government, there- 
fore, w^as my own choice, and the consequent support I gave 
to Lord Westmoreland's administration, of my own free will. 
I liked Lord Buckinghamshire (Major Hobart) individually, 
and lived much in his society : I respected Lord Westmore- 
land highly, and he has always been very obliging to me du- 
ring a period of seven-and-thirty years, Avhenever he had an 
opportunity. During his administration I accepted office ; and 
on his recall, he recommended Lord Camden to return me to 
parliament. Mr. Pelham did so for the city of Clogher, but 
made no sort of terms with me, directly or indirectly. In the 
autumn of 1798, Mr. Cooke wrote to me that a union would 



OPPOSITION TO THE ACT OF UNION. 435 

probably be submitted to parliament ; and to tliis communica- 
tion I promptly replied tbat I must decline all further support 
to any goyernment which should propose so destructive a meas- 
ure, at the same time tendering my seat. He replied that * I 
should think better of it.' 

'' Lord Oornwallis came over to carry this great measure ; 
and I opposed him, Lord Castlereagh, and the union, in every 
stage of the business, and by every means in my power, both 
in and out of parliament. Lord Oornwallis was defeated : he 
tried again — Lord Castlereagh had purchased or packed a 
small majority in the interval — and the bill was carried. In 
January, 1800, I received a letter from Lord Westmoreland, 
stating that, as Clogher had been a government-seat, he doubted 
if I could in honor retain it. I had already made up my mind 
to resign it when required. I mentioned the subject to Mr. 
Forster, the speaker, who thought I was not bound to resign. 
However, I acceded to the suggestion of Lord Westmoreland, 
and accepted an escheatorship. But no office in his majesty's 
gift — no power, no deprixatimi — would have induced me to 
support the union. 

" I stood, at my own expense, a very smartly-contested elec- 
tion for Maryborough, Queen's county, in which I was sup- 
ported by Sir E-obert Staples, Mr. Crosby, of Stradbally hall, 
Dean Walsh, Colonel Pigot, Mr. Warburton (member for the 
county), the Honorable Kobert Moore (against his brother the 
marquis of Drogheda), &c., and by the tenantry of the present 
Lord Maryborough. I was outvoted by a majority of three — 
the scale being turned against me by Lord Castlereagh, who 
sent down Lord ISTorbury, the crown-solicitor, and several such- 
like gentry, for the purpose. With that election my political 
career concluded : but I am happy and proud to state that, at 
its termination, I retained the confidence and esteem of every- 
body whose friendship I considered it desirable to retain. 
Lord Westmoreland bears the most unexceptionable testimony 
to my straight-forward conduct : I have been honored by his 
friendship, without intermission, down to the present day ; and 
the following extracts from his lordship's letters to in e, wherein 
he states his desire to bear witness to my strict conduct in my 



436 POLITICAL CONDUCT OF THE AUTHOR. 

transactions with government, form tlie best refutal of all the 
calumnies against me. 

" Since the period of mj retirement from public life, two of 
my then most intimate friends (namely, the present Chief-Jus- 
tice Bush and the present Attorney-General Plunkett) have 
succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations, yet cer- 
tainly not beyond their just merits. No government could 
pass such men by, at the bar, if they chose to claim offices. 
They took the same, and nearly as strong an anti-union part, 
as I did ; but, after the union, my public pursuits were nearly 
at an end. Ireland lost all charms for me : the parliament 
(the source of all my pride, ambition, and gratification, as a 
public man) had been bought and sold ; I felt myself as if no- 
body—became languid, careless, and indifferent to everything. 
I was no longer, in fact, in my proper sphere :' my health rap- 
idly declined ; and I neither sought for nor would have ac- 
cepted any other government-office in Ireland. 

" Most of these facts, my dear Burne, you have been long 
acq[uainted with : and this is solely a recapitulation of some 
circumstances which I have no other means of making gener- 
ally knovfn. You will use it as you think may best serve me ; 
and it only remains for me to repeat, what you already know, 
that I am most sincerely yours ever, 

" Jonah Barrington." 

"John Burne, Esq., K C, } 
"Mer7'ion square." ) 

Extracts of Letters J'rom the Earl of Westmoreland to Sir Jonah 
Harrington, enclosed to Mr. Biirne. 

"London, March 1%, 1795. 

" My Dear Sir : * * * *- i shall always be obliged 
to you whenever you will -have the goodness to let me know 
what is going on, on your side of the water, wherein I am con- 
vinced you will always bear a very considerable part. I must 
at the same time assure you that no man's name is more in 
public repute than your own. 

" Lord Camden left town this morning, and I have not failed 
to assure him of your talents and spirit, which were so useful 
to my government on many occasions; and which, as I am 



COEEESPONDENCE WITH LOED WESTMOEELAM). 437 

satisfied lie also will find useful, so is lie equally disposed, I 
believe, to give tiiem that countenance they deserve. 

Mr M, ^ 4^ ^U Als 4U 

'JV vS" VP vT •yv* "r^ ^r 

" The state of Ireland since I left jou is most wonderful, 
but the reign of faction seems drawing to a close. 

" I beg to be remembered to all friends, and am, dear sir, 

yours very faithfully, " Westmoreland." 

"To Jonah Baerington, Esq., one of His Majesty's ) 
Counsel-at-Law, &c., &c., Merrion square, Dublin." ) 

Much correspondence took place between his lordship and 
me after that period, in which he was always equally kind. 
Indeed, in that kindness he never varied : and after knowing 
me seven-and-thirty years (the most important of all revolu- 
tions having during that interval taken place in Ireland), and 
after I had directly and diametrically opposed, in parliament 
and out- of it, his lordship's opinion and acts upon that great 
question — the following extract of another letter from the 
same nobleman (dated 1817) proves that he has never changed 
his opinion of my honorable condvict toward the king's govern- 
ment (and permits me to state his approbation of that conduct), 
every part of which he must have well known ; since he had 
been, with very little intermission, a member of the British 
cabinet during the entire period. 

(Abstract.) 

"Paris, Auguat 19, 181Y. 
" Dear Sir : * * * * I have enclosed you a letter of 
introduction to Sir 0. Stuart, and will certainly speak to him 
as you wish, and shall have great pleasure if it should prove 
of any convenience to you or your family : and I assure you I 
have always much satisfaction in giving my testimony to the 
honorable manner in which you have ahvays conducted your- 
self in the political relations wherein you have stood with me. 
I am your very faithful servant, " Westmoreland." 

I also added the following, by way of postscript, to my ex- 
planatory letter to Mr. Burne : — 

" I think, my dear Burne, that after these testimonials, he 
must be a daring enemy who will reassert the calumnies 



438 POLITICAL CONDUCT OF THE AtJTHOE. 

against me. I apprehend that few public men can show more 
decided proofs of honor and consistency, or more fair and dis- 
interested conduct than I displayed when I found it necessary 
to oppose the government. I must also observe, on a principle 
of gratitude, that throughout the whole course of my public 
life, I have uniformly experienced from the government and 
ministers of England (let me here particularize Lord Stowell), 
at all times and on all occasions (whether supporting or oppo- 
sing them), the greatest kindness, justice, and considerate at- 
tention ; together with a much greater interest, in any concerns 
of mine submitted to them, than I could possibly have con- 
ceived — much less have expected. 

*'But his majesty's public functionaries in Ireland were 
men of a different bearing. After the surveillance -oi. a national 
parliament was extinguished, the country was, as it were, given 
over to them, bound hand and foot, and they at once assumed 
new powers, which before they durst not have aimed at. I 
possess knowledge respecting some of them, of the communi- 
cation of which they are not aware ; and I am not inclined to 
permit certain individuals to go to their graves without hear- 
ing my observations. When the proper time arrives, I shall 
not be silent. Again, dear Burne, yours, 

"J. Barrington." 

On reading over the foregoing postscript of the letter to my 
poor friend Burne (who has lately paid his debt on demand to 
nature) some observations occur to me respecting Ireland her- 
self, her parties, and species of government, not uncongenial to 
the subject of my letter. The justice of these observations, 
each day's experience tends to prove ; and I firmly believe, 
every member of the British government at this moment 
(except one) views the matter precisely as I do. They find it 
difficult, however, to disentangle themselves from the opinions 
which have been so frequently expressed by them heretofore, 
and which, had they been equally informed then as now, I 
apprehend would never have been entertained. The people 
of England, and also of some continental kingdoms, are fully 
aware of the distracted state of Ireland, but are at a loss to 
account for it. It is, however, now in proof, that twenty-seven 



CRUM-A-BOO AND BUTTEE-A-HOO. 439 

« 

years of union have been t^Yenty-seYen years of beggary and 
of disturbance ; and this result, I may fairly say, I always 
foresaw. The only question now asked is, " What is to be 
done V and the only comment on this question that it is in 
my power to make is, " a council of peace is better than a 
council of war." Much of the unfortunate state of that country 
may be attributed to the kindred agency of two causes — 
namely, fanaticism in Ireland, and ignorance (I mean, want of 
true information) in Great Britain. The Irish are deluded by 
contesting factions, and by the predominance of a couple of 
watchwords ;* while the great body of the English people 
know as little of Ireland (except of its disturbances) as they 
do of Kamtschatka : and the king's ministers, being, imluckily, 
somewhat of different opinions, go on debating and considering 
what is best to be done, and meanwhile doing nothing : if they 
do not take care, in a little time there will be nothing: left 
t7ie??i to do. 

I firmly believe England now means well and honorably to 
the Irish nation on all points, but think she is totally mistaken as 
to measures. Neither honorable intentions, nor the establish- 
ment of Sunday schools, nor teaching the four rules of arithme- 
tic, nor Bible societies, can preserve people from starving : 
education is a very sorry substitute for food ; and I know the 
Irish well enough to say, they never will be taught anything 
upon an empty stomach. Work creates industry, and industry 
produces the means of averting hunger ; and Avlien they have 
work enough and- food enough, they may be turned to anytliing. 

* An ancient law still appears among the statutes of Ireland, to prohibit 
the natives of that country from using the terms Cnim-a-boo, and Butter-a- 
hoo, as being the watchwords of two most troublesome hostile factions, 
"which kept, at the period of the prohibition, the whole nation in a state of 
uproar. In my mind, a I'evival of that salutary enactment would not be 
amiss just now. A similar case as regards the existing state of things may 
be easily made out; and, as we lawyers say, like case like rule. As the 
statute is still upon our books, there is a precedent at hand, and it will only 
be necessary to amend it by changing the two terms Crnm-a-hoo and Bitfter- 
a-hoo. into Ancendnncy-a-hoo and. Emancipalion-a-hoo ! The penalty for rais- 
ing these cries might be the treadmill, adjurlged ad lihitam by Chief-Justice 
Lord Norbur}-; and thei-e can be little doubt that so wholesome a measure 
would speedily tranquillize the country, and prevent the necessity of a good 
deal of hanging. 



MO POLITICAL CONDrCT OF THE AUTHOE. 

I speak now, of course, of the lowest orders : tte class immedi- 
ately above those is very unmanageable, because supported by 
its starving inferiors, wlio now depend upon it alone for sub- 
sistence. The nature and materials of the present Irish con- 
stitution, indeed, appear to me totally unadapted to the neces- 
sities of that country. 

It is but too obvious that the natural attachment which ought 
to subsist between Great Britain and Ireland is not increasing, 
though on the due cultivation of that attachment so entirely 
depend the strength, the peace, and the prosperity of the 
United Empire ; yet I fearlessly repeat that the English mem- 
bers of the imperial parliament mean well by Ireland, and only 
require to ascertain her true circumstances to act for her tran- 
quillization. Politically they may be sure that the imperium 
in imperio, as at present operating in that country, is not cal- 
culated to reform it. The protecting body of the country gen- 
tlemen have evacuated Ireland, and in their stead we now find 
official clerks, griping agents, haughty functionaries, proud 
clergy, and agitating demagogues. The resident aristocracy 
of Ireland, if not quite extinguished, is hourly diminishing : 
and it is a political truism, that the co-existence of an oligarchy 
without a cabinet' — ^^of a resident executive and an absent legis- 
lature — of tenants without landlords, and magistracy without 
legal knowledge* — must be, from its nature, as a form of con- 
stitution, at once incongruous, inefficient, and dangerous. ISTo- 
body can appreciate the native loyalty of the Irish people 
better than his present majesty, v/hose reception in Ireland 
was enthusiastic : they adored him when he left it ; and 
amidst millions of reputed rebels, he wanted no protection ; 
every man would have been his life-guard ! I speak not, how- 
ever, of corporations or guilds — of gourmands, or city feasters: 
these have spoken for themselves, and loudly too. Plis majes- 

* I allude here more particularly to the clerical justices of Ireland. I 
believe I only coincide with some of the first lavv^yers of this day, in main- 
taining that clergymen should confine themselves to spiritual duties, in 
doing justice to which, ample occupation would be afforded them. How 
is it possible that men honestly fulfilling the functions of Christian minis- 
ters should be able to understand our five hundred and seventy penal 
statutes ? 



TIRULENCE OF PAETT FEELING. 4^1 

tj's wise and paternal orders were ridiculed and disobeyed by 
them tbe very moment bis back was turned ! Witb such folks 
the defunct King William seems more popular than tlie living 
King George.* 

Good government, and tbe sufferance of active local factions, 
are, in my view of things, utterly incompatible. Faction and 
fanaticism (no matter on which side ranged) ought to be put 
down to the ground — gently,, if possible; but if a strong hand 
be necessary, it should not be withheld. The spectator often 
sees the game better than the player, and in Ireland it has 
now proceeded too far to be blinked at. The British cabinet 
may be somewhat divided ; but they will soon see the impera- 
tive necessity of firmness and unanimity. It is scandalous that 
the whole empire should thus be kept in a state of agitation by 
the pretended theological animosities of two contending sects 
— a great portion of whose respective partisans are in no way 
influenced by religion — the true object of their controversy 
being ^'^ who shall get the uppermost T^ 

f I lately met rather a noted corporator of Dublin in Paris. Of course, I 
did not spare my interrogations as to the existing state of things: and in 
the course of conversation I asked why, after the king's visit to Dublin, and 
his conciliatory admonitions, the corporation still appeared to prefer the 
Boyne Wafer and King William! "Lord bless you. Sir Jonah," replied the 
corporator, "as for tlie Wcdher we don't care a farthing about that; but if 
we once gave up ould King William, we'd give up all our enjoyments! only 
for fhe 'glorious memory' we would not have a toast now to get drunk 
"roith — eh! Sir Jonah ?" To humor the man, I did not hesitate to join in the 
hearty laugh which he set up in satisfaction at his own waggery. 

19* 



442 SCENES AT HAVEE DE GEACE. 



SCENES AT HAVEE DE GEAOE. 

Peace of 1814 — The Bourbous and Emigres generally— Motives of the Author in visiting the 
ContiTif?nt — His Departure from England w^ith his Family — Arrival at Havre de Grace — 
The Coteau d'lngouville — Doctor Sorer-ie and his Graduated Scale — The Pavilion Poulet 
— Price of Commodities at Havre — Rate of Exchange — English Assumption Abroad — The 
Author's Rural Retirement disturbed by Napoleon's Return from Elba — Circumstances 
attending the Announcement of this Fact at Havre — Previous Demonstiations of the 
Inhabitants of the Tow^n and more particularly of the Military quartered there — The Uni- 
form of the Old Guard — Two Russians Mutilated by the Mob — Retirement of Louis le 
Desire from Paris — Curious Variety of Feelin": manifested among the People at Havre — 
Policy of the Priests — Good Humor of all Parties — Recruiting for the Empei'or aud the 
King — Consternation of the English at Havre — Meeting at the House of the Consul, Mr. 
Stnart — A Vinous Harangue — Prompt Embarkation of the British — Accommodations of 
a Storehouse — The Huissiers and the Spring Showers — Signs of the Times. 

On tlie abdication of tlie Emperor Napoleon in the year 1814, 
my curiosity was greatly excited to view tlie alteration which 
different revolutions, a military government, and a long pro- 
tracted warfare, must necessarily have made in the manners, 
habits, and appearance of the French people. My ardent desire 
to see the emperor himself had been defeated by his abdication, 
and no hope remained to me of ever enjoying that pleasure. 

The royal family of France I had the honor of meeting often 
in society during the long visit with which they favored the 
British nation; the last time was at Earl Moria's, one of their 
most zealous friends : my curiosity on that score was therefore 
quite satisfied. I had also known many, and had formed a 
very decisive opinion as to most of their countrymen, who had, 
like themselves, emigrated to England ; nor lias the experi- 
ence acquired during my residence in France at all tended to 
alter the nature of that opinion. Some of these men have, I 
fear, the wo?-st memories of any people existing ! Indeed, it 
should seem that since their return home, they must have 
drunk most plentifally of Lethe. 

I wais extremely desirous also to see the persons who had 
rendered themselves so conspicuous during the long and mighty 
struggle wherein the destinies of Europe were all at stake — 
the great heroes of both the field and cabinet ; and, therefore, 
upon the restoration of King Louis, I determined to visit Paris, 
the rathey as jny family were infected with the same curiosity 
as myself. 



Tiii-: coTEALT d'ingouville. 443 

Accordingly we set out on our journey, taking Havre de 
Grace in our route to tlie metropolis. I was then in a very 
declining state of health, and consequently unnerved and in- 
capable of much energy either mental or corporeal. On arri- 
ving at Havre, I was so captivated by the fine air and beautiful 
situation of the Coteau d'ingouville (rising immediately over 
the town), that we determined to tarry there a few months, 
and visit Paris in the spring, when my health and strength 
should be renovated ; and never did any person recover both 
so rapidly as I did during the short period of my sojourn on 
that spot. 

Doctor Sorerie, the first phj^sician at Havre, told me that he 
divided the hill of Ingouville into three medical compartments : 
" the summit," said he, " never requires- the aid of a physician 
— the middle portion only twice a year — the base always^ 
His fanciful estimate, he assured me, was a perfectly true one ; 
and, on the strength of that assurance, I rented the beautiful 
cottage on the summit of the hill, called the Pafillon Poulet, 
now occupied, I believe, by the American consul. All around 
was new to me ; of course I was the more observing ; and the 
result of my observations was, that I considered Havre, even 
in 1815, as being at least a hundred years behind England in 
everything. Tea was only sold there as a species of medicine, 
at the apothecaries' shops ; and articles of cotton manufacture 
were in general more than double the price of silk fabrics. 
The market was very good and very moderate ; the hotels 
most execrable. But the most provoking of all things which 
I found at Havre, was the rate of exchange : the utmost I could 
get for a one-pound bank of England note was sixteen francs ; 
or for an accepted banker's bill, sixteen francs and a half to 
the pound (about fourteen shillings for my twenty). This 
kind of thing, in profound peace, surprised me, and the more 
particularly, as the English guinea was at a premium, and the 
smooth English shilling at a high premium. 

A visit paid to the continent after so very long an exclu- 
sion, really made one feel as if about to explore a kind of terra 
incognita, and gave everything a novel and perhaps over-im- 
portant character to the traveller. In a country altogether 



444 SCENES AT HAVEE DE GRACE. 

strange, ordinary occurrences often ■ assume tlie dignity of ad- 
ventures ; and incidents wliicli at home would scarcely liave 
been noticed, become invested on tlie sudden with an air of 
interest. Our fellow-countrymen are too apt to undervalue 
everything which differs from their own established ways 
of either acting or thinking-. For this overbearing spirit they 
have been and are plentifully and justly quizzed by the na- 
tives of other countries. Yet they exhibit few signs of amend- 
ment. An Englishman seems to think it matter of course that 
he must be lord of the ascendant wherever he travels, and is 
sometinies reminded of his mistake in a manner anything but 
gentle. The impatience he constantly manifests of any foreign 
trait, whether of habit or character, is really quite amusing. 
If Sterne's Maria had figured away at Manchester, or his 
Monk at Liverpool, both the one and the other would have 
been deemed fit objects either for a madhouse or house of cor- 
rection : probably the girl vf ould have been committed by his 
worship the mayor to bedlam, and the old man to the tread- 
mill. In fact, Yorick's refined sentiment in France would be 
gross nonsense at Birmingham ; and La Fleur's letter to the 
corporal's wife be considered as decided evidence of crim. con. 
by an alderman of Gripplegate. 

As for myself, I have of late felt a sort of medium sensation. 
As men become stricken in years, a species of venerable insi- 
pidity insinuates itself among their feelings. A great propor- 
tion of mine had turned sour by long keeping, and I set out 
on my travels without one quarter of the good nature which I 
had possessed thirty years before. My palate was admirably 
disposed at the time to feast upon novelties, of which I had 
made up my mind to take a full meal, and thought I should 
be all the better prepared by a few months of salubrious air 
and rural tranquillity. 

The interval, however, which I had thus devoted to quiet, 
and thorough reinstatem.ent of health upon the breezy and 
delightful Coteau d'Ingouville, and which I expected would 
flow on smoothly for some months (without the shadow of an 
adventure, or, indeed, anything calculated to interfere with 
my perfect composure), tiirned out to be one filled with the 



napoleon's RETUKN from ELBA. 4:4:5 

most extraorclinaiy occurrences wliicli liave erer marked tlie 
liistoiy of Europe. 

Tlie sudden return of ISTapoleon from Elba, and tlie speedy 
fliglit of the French king and royal family from tlie Tuilleries, 
without a single effort heing made to defend them, appeared 
to me, at the time, of all possible incidents, the most extraor- 
dinary and the least expected. The important events which 
followed in rapid and perplexing succession afforded me scope 
for extensive observation, whereof I did not fail to take ad- 
vantage. My opportunities were indeed great and peculiar; 
but few, comparatively, of my fellow-countrymen had as yet 
ventured into France : those who did avail themselves of the 
conclusion of peace in 1814, fled the country in dismay, on the 
return of " the child and champion of Jacobinism;" while I, 
by staying there throughout his brief second reign, was en- 
abled to ascertain facts known to very few in England, and 
hitherto not published by any. , 

At Havre it appeared clearly to me that ISTapoleon, during 
his absence, was anything but forgotten or disesteemed. The 
empress, when there, had become surprisingly popular among 
all classes of people ; and the misfortunes of her husband had 
only served to render his memory more dear to his brother- 
soldiers, by whom he was evidently still regarded as their 
general and their prince. In truth, not only by the soldiers, 
but generally by the civic ranks, Louis, rather than Napoleon, 
was looked on as a usurper. 

There were two regiments of the line at Havre, the officers 
of which made no great secret of their sentiments, while the 
men appeared to me inclined for anything but obedience to 
the Bourbon dynasty. The spirit of which I could not help 
seeing in full activity here, it was rational to conclude, opera- 
ted in other parts of the kingdom, and the justice of this infer- 
ence was suddenly manifested by the course of events. 

Vfe were well acquainted with the colonel and superior 
officers of one of the regiments then in garrison. The colonel, 
a very fine soldier-like man, about forty-five, with the reputa- 
tion of being a brave officer and an individual at once candid, 
liberal, and decided, was singularly frank in giving his opin- 



41-6 SCENES AT IIxU^EE DE GKACE. 

ions on all public subjects. He made no attempt to conceal 
his indestructible attachment to Napoleon ; and I should think 
(for his tendencies must necessarily have been reported to the 
government) that he was continued in command only from a 
consciousness on their part, that if they removed him, they 
must at the same moment have disarmed and disbanded the 
regiment, a measure which the Bourbon family was then by 
no means strong enough to hazard. 

On one occasion, the colonel, in speaking to me while com- 
pany w^as sitting round us, observed, with a sardonic smile, 
that his tnaster., Louis, was not q^uite so firmly seated as his 
emigres seemed to think. " The puissant allies," continued he, 
sneering as he spoke, " may change a king, but" (and his voice 
rose the while), " they can not change 2i people. [^ ' 

Circumstances, in fact, daily conspired to prove to me that 
the army was still Napoleon's. The surgeon of that same 
regiment was an Italian, accounted very clever in his profes- 
sion, good-natured, intelligent, and obliging ; but so careless 
of his dress, that he was generally called by us the "dirty 
doctor." This person was less anxious even than his com- 
rades to conceal his sentiments of men and things, both polit- 
ically and generally : never failing, whether in public or 
private, to declare his opinion, and his attachment to " the 
exile." 

A great ball and supper was given by the prefects and other 
authorities of Havre, in honor of Louis le Desire's restoration. 
The affair was very splendid : we were invited, and went 
accordingly. I there perceived our dirty doctor, dressed most 
gorgeously in military uniform, but not of that of liis regiment. 
I asked him to what corps it appertained : he put his hand to 
his mouth, and whispered me, " C'est I'uniforme de mon coeur !" 
(" 'Tis the uniform of my heart !") It was the dress-uniform 
of Napoleon's old guard, in which the doctor had served. The 
incident spoke a volume ; and as to the sentiments of its 
wearer, was decisive. 

About six weeks after that incident, two small parties of sol- 
diers of the garrison passed repeatedly through the market- 
place on a market-day, with drawn swords, flourishing them 



TWO EUSSIANS MUTILATED BY THE ISIOB. 447 

in the air, and crying incessantly, " Vive Naimlcon ! vive Vem- 
pereur /" but tliey did not manifest tlie slightest disposition 
toward riot or disturbance, and nobody appeared either to be 
surprised at or to mind them much^ I was speaking to a 
French officer at the time, and he, like the rest of the specta- 
tors, showed no wish to interfere with these men, or to prohibit 
the continuance of their exclamations, nor did he remark in 
any way upon the circumstance. I hence naturally enough 
inferred the state of public feeling, and the very slight hold 
which Louis le Desire then had upon the crown of his ancestors. 

A much more curious occurrence took place, when a small 
detachment of Russian cavalry, which had remained in France 
from the termination of the campaign, were sent down to 
Havre, there to sell their horses and embark for their native 
country. The visit appeared to me to be a most unwelcome 
one to the inhabitants of the place, and still more so, as might 
be expected to the military stationed there. The Russians 
were very fine-looking fellows, of large size, but with a want 
of flexibility in their limbs and motions ; and were thence con- 
trasted rather unfavorably with the alert French soldiery, who, 
in manoeuvring and rapid firing, must have a great advantage 
over the northern stiftuess. 

I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted at Havre with 
Mr. Wright, a very respectable gentleman, and I believe, by 
affinity, a nephew of Mr. Windham. We had been in a cafe 
together, and were returning to our hotel about ten o'clock at 
night, when we saw a small assemblage of people collected at 
the churchdoor in the main street. There were some women 
among them, and they seemed earnestly employed on some 
business which the total darkness of the night prevented us 
from seeing. There was, in fact, no light around save one 
glimmering lamp in the porch of the churchdoor, where the 
people appeared fairly knotted together. There was scarcely 
any noise made above a sort of buzz, or as it were, rather a 
suppression of voices. Mr. Wright remained stationary Avhile I 
went across the street to reconnoitre ; and after a good deal 
of peeping over shoulders and under arms, I cotild perceive 
that the mob was in the act of deliberately cutting off the ears 



4J:8 SCENES AT IIAVKE I)E CIRACE. 

of two powerful-looking Russian soldiers, who were held so 
fast by many men, that they had not the least capability of 
resistance. They seemed to bear the application of the blunt 
knives of their assailants with considerable fortitude, and the 
women were preparing to complete the trimyning with scissors; 
but one glance was quite enough for me ! I got away as quick 
as thought ; and as the circumstance of Mr. Wright wearing 
mustaches might possibly cost him his ears, I advised him to 
get into a house as soon as possible : he took to his ' heels on 
the suggestion, and I was not slow in following. The next day 
I saw one of the Russians in the street with a guard to pro- 
tect him — his head tied up with bloody cloths, and cutting alto- 
gether a most frightful figure. All the French seemed highly 
diverted, and shouted out their congratulations to the Russian, 
who, however, took no manner of notice of the compliment. 

I believe the authorities did all they could in this affair to 
apprehend the trimmers, but unsuccessfully. Some individuals 
were, it is true, taken upon suspicion ; but as soon as the 
Russians were embarked, they were liberated. In fact, the 
local dignitaries knew that they were not as yet sufficiently 
strong to enforce punishment for carving a Russian. 

I often received great entertainment from sounding many of 
the most respectable Frenchmen whose acquaintance I made 
at Havre, with regard to their political tendencies ; and the 
result as well of my queries as of my observations led me to 
perceive, that there were not wanting numerous persons by 
whom the return of Bonaparte, sooner or later, was looked 
forward to as an occurrence by means either violently improba- 
ble, or undesirable. 

Nevertheless, no very deep impression was made on my 
mind as to these matters, until one morning. Lady Barrington, 
returning from Havre, brought me a small printed paper, an- 
nouncing the emperor's actual return from Elba, and that he 
was on his route for Paris. I believed the evidence of my 
eyesight, on reading the paper ; but I certainly did not believe 
its contents. I went off immediately to my landlord, Mr. 
Poulet, a great royalist, and his countenance explained cir- 
cumstances sufficiently before I asked a single question. The 



EUMOES OF napoleon's EETrEK. M9 

sub-prefect soon left tlie town : bnt tlie intelligence was scarcely 
credited, and not at all to its full extent. I went into every 
cafe and public place, and through every street. In all direc- 
tions I saw groups of people, anxious and busily engaged in 
converse ; I was much amused by observing the various effects 
of the intelligence on persons of different opinions, and by con- 
trasting the countenances of those who thronged the thorough- 
fares. 

I did not myself give credence to the latter part of this in- 
telligence — namely, that Bonaparte was on his way to Paris. 
I could not suppose that the king had found it impracticable 
to command the services of a single regiment ; and it must be 
confessed that his majesty, a man of excellent sense, had, 
under all the circumstances, made a very bad use of his time 
in acquiring popularity, either civil or military. Notwith- 
standing the addition of Desire to his Christian name (where- 
Avith it had been graced by messieurs les emigres), it is self- 
evident that outward demonstrations alone had been conceded 
to him of respect and attachment. I never heard that nick- 
name appropriated to him at Havre, by-the-by, except by the 
prefects and revenue officers. 

The dismal faces of the Bourbonites, the grinning ones of 
the Bonapartists, and the puzzled countenances of the neutrals 
were mingled together in the oddest combinations : throughout 
the town everybody seemed to be talking at once, and the 
scene was undoubtedly of the strangest character, in all its 
varieties. Joy, grief, fear, courage, self-interest, love of peace, 
and love of battle — each had its votaries. Merchants, priests, 
douaniersy military officers, Avere strolling about, each appa- 
.rently influenced by some distinctive grade of feeling : one sen- 
sation alone seemed common to all — that of astonishment. 

The singularity of the scene every moment increased. On 
the day immediately ensuing, fugitives from Paris, full of news 
of all descriptions, came in as cj[uick as horses and cabriolets 
could bring them. Bulletin after bulletin arrived — messenger 
after messenger ! But all the despatches in any shape official 
combined in making light of the matter. The intelligence 
communicated by private individuals, however, was very con- 



4:50 SCENES AT HAVEE DE GRACE. 

tradictoiy. One, for instance, stated positively tliat the army 
had declared against Napoleon ; another that it had declared 
for him ; a third that it had not declared at all ! One said 
that Napoleon wsiS sui'rounded : — " Yes," returned a bystander, 
"but it is by his friends!" Toward evening every group 
seemed to be quite busy making up their minds as to the news 
of the day, and the part they might think it advisable to take ; 
as for the English they were frightened out of their wits, and 
the women had no doubt that they should all be committed to 
jail before next morning. 

I observed, however, that amidst all this bustle, and mass 
of conflicting opinions, scarce a single priest visible : these 
cunning gentry had (to use a significant expression) deter- 
mined, if possible, " not to play their cards till they were sure 
what was trumps.^'' On the preceding Sunday, they had, 
throughout the entire day, been chanting benedictions on 
Louis le Desire and on St. Louis his great grandfather ; but ou 
the sabbath which followed, if they chanted at all (as they 
were bound to do), they would necessarily run a great risk of 
chanting for the last time in their lives, if they left out Napo- 
leon ; and, inasmuch as they were unable to string together 
Louis le Desire, Napoleon, and St. Louis, in one henedicite, a 
most distressing dilemma became inevitable among the clergy. 
Common sense, hoAvever, soon pointed out their safest course : 
a plea of compulsion operating- on the meek resignation of their 
holy trade, might serve as an excellent apology, on the part 
of an ecclesiastical family, in the presumption of Louis' 
becoming victor ; but in the emperor they had to deal with a 
different sort of person, as they well knew — Avith a man who 
would not be put off" with unmeaning excuses, and in due hom- 
age to whom it would be dangerous to fail. Under all circum- 
stances, therefore, they took up a line of conduct which I can 
not but think Avas very wise and discreet, proceeding as it did 
upon the principle " of tAvo evils choose the least." Their 
loyalty Avas decided by their fears, Avhich sufficed to stimulate 
the whole body of priests and cures at Havre, old and young, 
to uplift their voices Avith becoming enthusiasm in benediction 
of " Napoleon le Grand !" indeed they seemed to be of opinion 



BOUEBONITES, BONAPARTISTS, AND ITEUTEALS. 451 

ttat, having taken tlieir ground it ^vonld be as well to appear 
in earnest ; and never did tliej work liarder than in clianting 
a Te Deum laudamus, in honor of their old master's return : to 
be serious, I believe they durst not have done otherwise ; for 
I heard some of the military say very decidedly, that if the 
priests played any tricks npon the occasion, they would liash 
them ! 

The observation which surprised me most of all was, that 
though the two parties had declared themselves, and \\iq fleur- 
de-lis and eagle were displayed in direct opposition to each 
other throughout the town; though the sub-prefect had run 
away, while the tri-colored flag was floating in one place, and 
the white one in another, no practical animosity or ill blood 
whatsoever broke out among the respective partisans. The 
bustle somewhat resembled that of an English election, but had 
none of the violence or dissipation, and only half the noise, 
which circulate on those august occasions. On the contrary, 
civility was maintained by every one : the soldiers were very 
properly kept in their barracks ; and an Englishman could 
scarcely conceive so polite, peaceable, temperate, and cheerful 
a revolution — more particularly as neither party could tell on 
which side the treason would ultimately rest. 

At length, orders came from Xapoleon, at Lyons, that the 
imperial army should be recruited ; Avhile, at the very moment 
this order arrived, some of the merchants and oflicers of the 
national guards were actually beating up for the royal arma- 
ment. The drums of the respective partisans rattled away 
through every street, and the recruiters often passed each other 
with the utmost courtesy : not one man was seen in a state of 
intoxication on either side. Meanwhile there was no lack of 
recruits to range themselves under either standard : and it 
was most carious to observe, that these men very frequently 
changed their opinions and their party before sunset ! I think 
most recruits joined the king's party ; his sergeants had plenty 
of money, while Napoleon's had none : and this was a most 
tempting distinction — far better thai! any abstract considera- 
tion of political benefit. Many of the recruits managed mat- 
ters even better than the priests, for they took the king's 



452 SCENES AT HAYKE DE GEACE. 

money in tlie morning, and the emperor's cockade in the after- 
noon : so tliat tliey could not be accused on eitlier side of 
unqualified partiality. The votaries of le Desire and le Grandt^ 
were, indeed, so jumbled and shuffled together (like a pack of 
cards when on the point of being dealt), that nobody could 
possibly decipher which had the best chance of succeeding. 

The English alone cast a dark and gloomy shade over the 
gay scene that surrounded them ; their lengthened visages, 
sunken eyes, and hanging features proclaiming their terror and 
despondency. Every one fancied he should be incarcerated 
for life, if he could not escape before Napoleon arrived at 
Paris, which seemed extremely problematical : and I really 
think I never saw a set of men in better humor for suicide 
than my fellow-countrymen, who stalked like ghosts along the 
pier and seaside. 

The British consul, Mr. Stuart (a litterateur and a gentleman, 
but whose wine generally regulated his nerves, while his nerves 
governed his understanding), as good-natured a person as could 
possibly be, about a couple of bottles after dinner (for so he 
counted his time — a mode of computation in which he cer- 
tainly was as regular as clockwork), called a general meeting ■ 
of all the British subjects in Havre, at his apartments ; and 
■ after each had taken a bumper of Madeira to George the 
Third, he opened the business in as long and 'flowery a ha- 
rangue, in English and Latin, as the grape of Midi and its 
derivative distillations could possibly dictate. 

" My friends and countrymen," said Mr. Stuart, " I have 
good consular reasons for telling you all, that if Bonaparte gets 
into Paris, he will order every mother's babe of you — men, 
women, and children, et cetera — into jail for ten or twelve 
years at the least computation ! — and I therefore advise you 
all, Tnagnus, ^najor, maximus, to take yourselves off without any 
delay, great or small, and thereby save your hacon while you 
have the power of doing so. Don't wait to take care of your 
property : nulla bona is better than nulla lihertas. As for me, 
I am bound ex-officio to devote myself for my country ! I will 
risk my life" (and here he looked sentimental) " to protect your 
property ; I Avill remain behind !" 



FLIGHT OF THE ENGLISH FEOM HAVRE. 453 

The conclusion of the consul's speech was a signal for the 
simultaneous uplifting of many voices. " I'll be ojff certainly !" 
exclaimed one terrifiecl gentleman. " Every man for himself, 
God for us all, and the devil taJae the hindmost .'" shouted an- 
other. " Do you mean to affront me, sir ?" demanded the wor- 
thy, self-devoted consul, starting from his seat. A regular 
uproar now ensued : but the thing was soon explained, and 
tranquillity restored. 

Two ships were now forthwith hired, at an enormous price, 
to carry the English out of the reach of Bonaparte. The wind 
blew a gale, but no hurricane could be so terrific as Napoleon. 
Their property was a serious consideration to my fellow-coun- 
trymen ; however, there was no choice : they therefore packed 
up all their small valuables, and relinquished the residue to 
the protection of Providence and the consul. 

In a short time, all was ready ; and, as Mr. Stuart had ad- 
vised, men, women, children, and.lapdogs, all rushed to the 
quay ; while, in emulation of the orator at the consul's, *' the 
devil take the hindmost," if not universally expressed, was 
universally the principle of action. Two children, in this most 
undignified sort of confusion, fell into the sea, but were picked 
up. The struggling, screeching, scrambling, &c., were at length 
completed ; and, in a shorter time than might be supposed, the 
English population were duly shipped, and away they went 
under a hard gale. Dr. Johnson calls a ship a prison, with 
the chance of being drowned in it ; and, as if to prove the cor- 
rectness of the doctor's definition, before night was over one 
vessel was ashore, and the whole of its company just on the 
point of increasing the population of the British channel. 

Havre de Grace being thus emptied of the king of England's 
subjects, who were " saving their bacon" at sea, in a violent 
hurricane, the consul began to take care of their property : but 
there being a thing called loyer, or rent, in France as well as 
in England, the huissiers (bailiffs) of the town saved the consul 
a great deal of trouble respecting his guardianship in divers 
instances. Nevertheless, so far as he could, he most faithfully 
performed his promise to the fugitives, for the reception of 
whose effects he rented a large storehouse, and so far all was 



454: SCENES AT HAVKE DE GKACE. 

wisely, courteously, and carefully managed : but not exactly 
recollecting that the parties did not possess the property as 
tenants in common., the worthy consul omitted to have distinct 
inventories taken of each person's respective chattels, though, 
to avoid any risk of favoritism, he had all jumbled together ; 
and such a heterogeneous medley was perhaps never seen else- 
where. Clothes, household furniture, kitchen utensils, books, 
linen, empty bottles, musical instruments, &c., strewed the 
floor of the storehouse in " most admired disorder." All being 
safely stowed, locks, bolts, and bars, were elaborately con- 
structed, to exclude such as might feel a disposition to picking 
and stealing : but, alas ! the best intentions and the most cau- 
tious provisions are sometimes frustrated by accident or over- 
sight. In the present instance, in his extraordinary anxiety 
to secure the door, Mr. Stuart Avas perfectly heedless of the 
roof ; and in consequence, the intrusion of the rain, which often 
descended in torrents, effectually saved most of the proprietors 
the trouble of identifying their goods after the result of the 
glorious battle of Waterloo. Disputes also were endless as to 
the right and title of various claimants to various articles ; and 
in the result, the liuissiers and the landlord of the storehouse 
were once more intruders upon the protected property. 

To return — Havre being completely evacuated by my coun- 
trymen, it now became necessary to strike out som^e line of 
proceeding for myself and family. Sir William Johnson, who 
was in the town, had participated in the general alarm, and 
had set off with his household for the Netherlands, advising 
me to do the same. I was afterward informed that they all 
foundered in a dike near Antwerp : I am ignorant whether or 
not there is any foundation for this story — I sincerely hope 
there is not. In the meantime, the transformation of things 
at Havre became complete, and perfect order quickly succeed- 
ed the temporary agitation. The tri-colored flag was again 
hoisted at the port ; and all the painters of the toAvn were 
busily employed in changing the royal signs into imperial ones. 
One auberge, Louis le Desire, was changed into a blue hoar ; 
the DucJiesse d' Angouleme became the Virgin Mary ; royal was 
new gilt into imperial once more at the lottery-offices ; JleurS' 



LEAYE IIAYEE FOE PARIS. 455 

de-lis were nietamorpliosed, in a single day, into beautiful spread 
eagles ; and tlie Due de Berry, who had hung creaking so peace- 
ably on his post before the door of a hotel, became, in a few 
hours, St. Peter himself, with the keys of heaven dangling 
from his little finger ! 



COMMENCEMENT OF THE HUKDEED DAYS. 

A Family Council — Journf^y from Havre to Paris — Attention of the French Officers to the 
Author and his Party — Peaceable CondiHon of the Intervening Country — Thoughts on 
Revolutions in General — Ireland in 1798 — Arrival in the French Capital — Admirable 
State of the Police — Henry Thevenot — Misgivings of the Author — His Interview with 
Count Bertrand — Polite Conduct of the Count — The Emperor's Chapel — Napoleon at 
Mass — His Deportment — Treasonable Garments — Colonel Gowen — Military Inspection 
after Mass — Alteration in the Manner of the Emperor — Enthusiasm of the Soldiers. 

To see Napoleon or not to see Napoleon — that was the 
question ! and well Aveighed it was in my domestic republic. 
After a day's reasoning, pro and con (curiosity being pitted 
against fear, and women in the question), the matter was still 
undecided when our friends the colonel and the dirty doctor 
came to visit us, and set the point at rest, by stating that the 
regiments at Havre had declared unanimously for the emperor, 
and that the colonel had determined to march next day direct 
upon Paris ; that therefore, if we were disposed to go thither, 
and would set oif at the same time, the doctor should take care 
of our safety, and see that we had good cheer on our journey 
to the metropolis. 

This proposal was unanimously adopted : we were at peace 
with France, and might possibly remain so ; and the curiosity 
of three ladies, with my own to back it, proved to be totally 
irresistible. A new sub-prefect also having arrived in the 
town, came to see us ; expressed his regret that the English 
should have deemed it necessary to quit the place ; and gave 
us a letter of introduction to his wife, who lived in the Hue St. 
Honore, at Paris. 

We immediately packed up ; I procured three stout horses 
to my carriage, and away we went after the advanced guard 
of the (as well as I recollect) 41st regiment. The soldiers 



456 COMMENCEMENT OF THE IIUNDEED DAYS. ^ 

seemed to me as if tliey tlionglit tliey never conld get to Na- 
poleon soon enough ; tliey marched with surprising rapidity ; 
and after a most agreeable jonrney, we arrived at the good 
city of Paris without any let or hinderance, having experi- 
enced from the dirty doctor every possible attention. We 
were sure of the best cheer at any place we halted at ; and the 
more so as the advanced guard only preceded us one stage, 
and the main body of the troops was a stage behind us. We 
were immediately escorted by four mounted soldiers, who were 
in attendance upon our medical friend. I have learned since 
that this kind and firm-hearted man escaped the campaign and 
returned to Italy. The colonel was shot dangerously at Qua- 
tre Bras, but I understood his wounds did not prove mortal. 

. Our route from Havre to Paris exhibited one general scene 
of peace and tranquillity, not dashed by the slighest symptom 
of revolution. The national guards everywhere appeared to 
have got new clothing, and were most assiduously learning in 
the villages to hold up their heads, and take long strides and 
lock-steps, but (for anything that appeared to the contrary) 
solely for their own amusement. The same evidences of undis- 
turbed serenity and good-humor were displayed in all direc- • 
tions, and the practice of military exercises by the national 
guards was the only warlike indication of any kind through- 
out the whole extent of country we traversed. - 

On our arrival at the capital, we found no exception therein 
to the tranquillity of the provinces. People at a distance are 
apt to conceive that a revolution must necessarily be a most 
terrific affair — a period of anarchy and confusion, when every- 
thing is in a state of animosity, bustle, and insecurity. This 
is in some instances a great mistake (although, generally speak- 
ing, true enough) — for, on the other hand, many modern rev- 
olutions have been effected, governments upset, dynasties anni- 
hilated, and kings trucked, with as little confusion as the chan- 
ging a gig-horse. I have, indeed, seen more work made about 
the change of a hat than of a diadem ; more anxiety expressed 
touching a cane than a sceptre : and never did any revolution 
more completely prove the truth of these remarks than that in 
France during March, 1815, when Napoleon quietly drove up 



AT PARIS THE POLICE HEXET THEVEXOT. 457 

post, in a chaise-and-foiir, to the palace of the Bourbons, and 
Louis XVIII. as quietly drove qf-post, in a chaise-and-four, to 
avoid his visiter. Both parties, too, were driven hack again, 
within three months, pretty nearly in the same kind of vehi- 
cle ! Let my reader compare, for his edification, this bloodless 
revolution with the atteirfpt at revolution in the obscure corner 
of the globe whence I sprang, anno Domini 1798 — during the 
brief summer of which year there was, in secluded Ireland 
(the kingdom of Ireland, as it was then called), more robbery, 
shooting, hanging, burning, piking, flogging, and picketing, 
than takes place in half a dozen of the best-got-up continental 
revolutions- — always , excepting that great convulsion which 
agitated our neighbors toward the close of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. 

During the interval of the " Hundred Days," and some time 
subsequently, I kept a regular diary, wherein I accurately 
took down every important circumstance, except some few 
which I then considered much safer in my mind than under 
my hand ; and these are now, for the most part and for the 
first time, submitted to the public. After a few days' stay in 
Paris, I began to feel rather awkward. I found very few of 
my fellow-countrymen had remained there, and that there 
seemed, to exist but little partiality toward the English. But 
the police was perfect, and no outrage, robbery, or breach of 
the peace, was heard of; nor could I find that there were any 
political prisoners in the jails, or in fact many prisoners of any 
kind. ISTo dissolutes were suffered to parade the streets or con- 
taminate the theatres ; and all appeared polite, tranquil, and 
correct. I kept totally clear, meanwhile, in both word and 
deed, of political subjects. 

I hired as footman a person then very well known in Paris, 
Henry Thevenot. I have since heard (but can not vouch for 
the fact) that he is the Thevenot who attended Mr. Wakefield 
and Miss Turner. I have likewise recently been apprised 
that, at the time I engaged him, he was actually on the espion- 
nagc establishment. Be that as it may, I certainly always 
considered Thevenot to be a mysterious kind of person, and 
on one particular occasion, which will be hereafter mentioned, 

20 



458 COMMENCEMENT OF THE IIUNDEED DAYS. 

discliarged him suddenly, Avitlioiit enlarging on my reasons : 
lie was, however, an excellent servant. 1 had brought a pass- 
port from the new sous-prefet at Havre, which, having lodged 
at the police-office, I felt quite at my ease : but reflecting after- 
ward upon the probable consequences in case of war or change 
of circumstances, I determined at once to take a bold step and 
go to the Palais de Bourhon Elysee (where Napoleoii resided), 
to see Count Beii;rand, whom I proposed to inform, truly of^my 
situation, and ask for a savf conduit or, passport to return. 

On the second day whereon I made an attempt to see him, 
with difficulty I succeeded in obtaining an audience. I told 
the count avIio I was, and all the facts, together with my doubts 
as to the propriety of remaining. He very politely said I 
should have what I required, but that a gentleman in my sta- 
tion w^as perfectly safe, and there could be no difficulty as to 
my remaining as long as I chose ; and concluded by bowing 
me out, after a very short interview. As I was going down 
the steps, an officer recalled me, and asked if I had any family 
in Paris. I replied in the affirmative — three ladies. Mutual 
bows ensued, and I returned very well satisfied with the result 
of my visit to the Palais de Bourhon Elysee. At that time the 
emperor was employed day and night on business in the pal- 
ace. At daybreak he occasionally rode out Avith some of his 
staff, to inspect the works at Montmartre ; and on hearing this, 
my ancient curiosity to see so distinguished a person came 
afresh uj)on me. 

The ensuing day, a man with a large letter-box buckled be- 
fore him, entered our apartment without the least ceremony, 
and delivered a letter with '' Bertrand" signed at the corner. 
I was rather startled at the moment, as the occurrence cer- 
tainly looked singular : nevertheless, the man's appearance 
and manner were not such as to confirm unpleasant surmises, 
and I proceeded to unseal the envelope, which enclosed a bil- 
let to the cominissaire de jJoIice, desiring him to grant me a satif 
co-nduit through any part of France, if I chose to travel in that 
country, and an especial passport to Calais, should I choose 
to return to England. The signature was not that of Ber- 
trand. The packet also contained a polite note from an aid- 



THE EMPEEOK S CHAPEL N'APOLEON AT MASS. 459 

de-camp of tlie count, mentioning that he was directed to enclose 
me an admission to the emperor's chapel, &c., and to say that, 
on production of my sauf conduit, our party would find a free 
admission to the theatres and othei: spectacles of Paris. So 
much politeness (so very different from what would have heen 
the case in England) both gratified and surprised me. I wrote 
a letter of thanks ; but at our privy council we agreed that, 
under existing circumstances, it would be better to say noth- 
ing, of the latter favor. I afterward discovered the friendly 
quarter through which it originated. . 

We hired a caleclie by the month, and set out with a deter- 
mination to lose no time in seeing whatever was interesting ; 
and in fact everything was at that moment interesting to 
strangers. We spoke French sufficiently well for ordinary 
purposes ; and determined, in short, to make ourselves as com- 
fortable as jDOssible. 

I have already observed that I kept a diary during the 
"Hundred Days," but afterward thought it most prudent not 
to commit anything very important to writing. From that 
diary, so far as I pursued it (and from scraps which nobody 
could understand but myself), I have since selected such de- 
tails and observations as have not hitherto been published or 
made, and for the collection of which my peculiar situation at 
Paris, and consequent opportunities, abundantly qualified me. 
Consistently with the foregoing part of these fragments, I shall 
not even attempt anything like strict order or chronological 
arrangement, but leave, generally speaking, the various sub- 
jects brought before the reader's attention to illustrate and 
explain each other. On this principle, I shall now, without 
further prelude, describe the first scene which impressed itself 
on my imagination. 

The first Sunday after the receipt of our permission, we re- 
paired to the emperor's chapel, to see that wonderful man, and 
to hear mass chanted in the first style of church music. Na- 
poleon had already entered : the chapel was full ; but we got 
seats very low down, near the gallery in which the emperor 
sat ; and as he frequently leaned over the front, I had oppor- 
tunities of partially seeing him. In the presence of so cele- 



460 COMMEN"CEMENT OF THE IIUNDEED DAYS. 

brated a man as Bonaparte, all other things sank into compara- 
tive insignificance, and the attention of the spectator was wholly 
absorbed by the one great object. Thus, in the present case, 
there was nothing in either the chapel or congregation that 
had power to divide my regards with the great Na]Doleon. As 
I have said, he often leaned over the front of the gallery 
wherein he sat ; and I had thence an opportunity of observing 
that he seemed quite restless, took snuff repeatedly, stroked 
down his head with an abstracted air — and, in fact, was obvi- 
ously possessed by feelings of deep anxiety. I should not sup- 
pose he had at the moment the least consciousness as to where 
he was, and that, of all things, the priests and the mass were 
the last likely to occupy his thoughts. 

While thus employed in reconnoitring the emperor as in- 
tensely as stolen glances afforded me means of doing, a buzz 
in the chapel caused me to turn round to ascertain its cause. 
Though low, it increased every moment, and was palpably 
directed toward us — so much so, that no doubt remained of 
our being, somehow or other, the sole objects of it. I then 
whispered my com.panions that our presence was evidently 
offensive in that place, and that we had better retire ; when a 
Frenchwoman, who sat near Lady Barrington, said, " Madame, 
you perceive- that you are the object of this uncourteous no- 
tice." — "Yes," replied Lady Barrington, ** it is become quite 
obvious." The French lady smiled, and continued, *' You had 
better lay aside your shawls .^" Lady Barrington and my daugh- 
ter accordingly taking the hint, threw off their shawls, which 
they suffered to drop at their feet, and at once the buzzing 
subsided, and no further explanation took place until the con- 
clusion of the service. 

At that moment several French ladies came up with great 
courtesy, to apologize for the apparent rudeness of the congre- 
gation, which they begged Lady Barrington to excuse on ac- 
count of its cause, and to examine her shawl, on doing which, 
she would perceive that it was very unlucky (bien mal apro- 
pos) to wear such a one in the presence of the emperor. She 
did so, and found that both hers and my daughter's (though 
very fine ones) were unfortunately speckled all over with 



TEEASONABLE SHAWLS COLONEL GOWEN. 461 

Jleurs-de-lis ! They had been sold her the preceding day by 
a knavish shopkeeper at the Passage Feydeau, who, seeing' 
she was a foreigner, had put off these articles, thinking it a 
good opportunity to decrease his stock in that kind of gear, 
the sale Avhereof would probably be pronounced high-treason 
before the month was over. 

The confusion of the ladies at this edaircissement may be 
well conceived, but it was speedily alleviated by the elegant 
consolations and extreme politeness of the Frenchwomen. 
Among those who addressed us was a gentleman in the uni- 
form of a colonel of the national guards ; he spoke to me in 
perfect English, and begged to introduce his family to mine. 
I told him who I was, and he asked us to a dinner and ball 
next day at his house in the Rue de Clichy. We accepted his 
invitation, and were magnificently entertained. This was 
Colonel Gowen, the proprietor of the first stamp-paper manu- 
factory in France — a most excellent, hospitable, and friendly 
person, but ill-requited, I fear, afterward by some of our coun- 
trymen. I subsequently experienced many proofs of his hos- 
pitality and attention. 

An English lady was also remarkably attentive and polite 
on this occasion, and gave her card to Lady Barrington — No. 
10, Rue Pigale. She was the lady of Dr. Marshall, an Eng- 
lish physician ; so that the affair of the shawl, so far from 
being mal apropos, turned out quite a lucky adventure. 

In viewing Napoleon that day, it was not the splendid su- 
periority of his rank — it was neither his diadem, sceptre, nor 
power, which communicated that involuntary sensation of awe 
which it was impossible not to feel ; it was the gigantic degree 
of talent whereby a man of obscure origin had been raised so 
far above his fellows. The spectator could not but deeply 
reflect on the mystic nature of those decrees of Providence 
which had placed Napoleon Bonaparte on one of the highest 
of earthly thrones, and at the very pinnacle of glory; had 
hurled him from that eminence and driven him into exile ; and 
now seemed again to have w^arranted his second elevation — 
replacing him upon that throne even more wondrously than 
when he first ascended it. 



462 COMMENCEMENT OF THE HUNDRED DAYS. 

Such were my impressions on my first sight of the Emperor 
Napoleon. So much has he been seen and scrutinized through- 
out the world — so familiar must his countenance have been to 
millions — so many descriptions have been given of his person 
and of his features by those who knew him well — that any 
portrait by me must appear to be at least superfluous. Every 
person, however, has a right to form his own independent judg- 
ment on subjects of physiognomy, and it is singular enough 
that I have never yet met any one with whom I entirely coin- 
cided as to the peculiar expression of Napoleon's features ; and 
I have some right to speak, for I saw him at periods and under 
circumstances that wrought on and agitated every muscle of 
his fine countenance, and have fancied (perhaps ridiculously) 
that I could trace indications of character therein unnoticed 
by his biographers. 

On this day my observations muist necessarily have been 
very superficial : yet I thought I could perceive, in the move- 
ment of a single feature, some strong-excited feeling, some sen- 
sation detached and wandering away from the ordinary modes 
of thinking, though I could not even guess from what passion 
or through what impulse that sensation originated. After I 
had seen him often, I collated the emotions palpable in his 
countenance with the vicissitudes of his past life, fancying that 
I might thence acquire some data to go upon in estimating the 
tone of his thoughts : but at this first sight, so diversified were 
the appearances as he leaned over the gallery, that even Lav- 
ater could not have deciphered his sensations. He was uneasy, 
making almost convulsive motions, and I perceived occasion- 
ally a quiver on his lip. On the whole, my anxiety was raised 
a hundred-fold to be placed in some situation where I might 
translate at leisure the workings of his expressive countenance. 
That opportunity was after a short interval fully given me. 

On the same day I had indeed a second occasion of observ- 
ing the emperor, and in a much more interesting occupation — 
more to his taste, and which obviously changed the entire cast 
of his looks- — quite divesting them of that deep, penetrating, 
gloomy character, which had saddened his countenance during 
the time he was at chapel. After mass he first came out upon 



NAPOLEON- ON PAKADE. 463 

tlie balcony iu front of the Tuilleries : Lis personal staff, mar- 
shals, generals, and a few ladies surrounded liim ; while the 
civil officers of the court stood in small groups aside, as if 
wishing to have nothing to do with the military spectacle. 
Kapoleon was now about to inspect eight or ten thousand of 
the army, in the Place Carousal. The transition from an array 
of priests to a parade of warriors — from the hymns of the 
saints to the shouting of the soldiery — from the heavy, al- 
though solemn, music of the organ to the inspiriting notes of 
the drum — added greatly to the effect of the scene, which 
strongly impressed my mind, alive and open to all these novel 
incidents.. Age had not then, nor has it yet, effaced the sus- 
ceptibility of my nature. I own, the latter scene was on that 
day to my mind vastly preferable to the first : the countenance 
of Napoleon was metamorphosed ; it became illuminated ; he 
descended from the balcony, and moiinted a gray barb. He 
was now obviously in his element; the troops, as I have said, 
amounted to about ten thousand : I did not conceive the court 
of the Tuilleries could hold so many. 

Napoleon was now fully exposed to our view. His face 
acknowledged the effect of climate : his forehead, though high 
and thinly strewn with hair, did not convey to me any par- 
ticular trait ; his eyebrows, when at rest, were not expressive, 
neither did his eyes on that occasion speak much : but the 
lower part of his face fixed my attention at once. It was 
about his mouth and chin that his character seemed to be con- 
centrated. I thought, on the whole, that I could perceive a 
mixture of steadiness and caprice, of passion and generosity, 
of control and impetuousness. 

But my attention was soon turned aside to the inspection 
itself. There was not a soldier w^ho did not appear nearly 
frantic with exultation, and whose very heart, I believe, did 
not beat in unison with the hurrahs wherewith they received 
their favorite leader. 

It was the first time I had ever heard a crowd express its 
boisterous pleasure in a tone of sensibility unknown in our 
country. The troops were in earnest, and so was the general. 
The old guard (including such as had returned from Elba and 



4:64: THE ENGLISH IN rAEIS. 

such as liad rejoined their colors) formed a body of men supe- 
rior to any I liad ever before witnessed. Descriptions of 
Napoleon amidst his soldiers are, however, so common, that I 
will not occupy either the reader's time or my own by enlar- 
ging further on the subject. 



THE ENGLISH IN PARIS. 

Doctor and Mrs. Mnrshall — Col. Macirone, Aid-de-Camp to Joachim Murat, while King of 
Naples — General Arthur O'Connor — Lord and Lady Kinnaird — His Lordship under the 
Surveillance of the Police — Suspected ol" Espionage, nnd Arrested, but set at Liberty 
immediately after — Messrs. Hobhouse and Bruce — Dr. Marshall's Correct Informatian as 
to Passino' Events — Real Character of the Coterie at his House — Madame la Parents du 
Ministre Fouche — Misconception of the Minister's Swiss Porter — Henry Thevenot. 

Shortly after this period, I became particularly intimate 
with Dr. Marshall, a circumstance which, in ilio, paucity of 
English who had remained in Paris, was productive to me of 
great satisfaction. He was a man of prepossessing appearance 
and address ; had travelled much : and acted, he informed me, 
as physician to the army in Egypt, &c., and had gone on some 
confidential mission to Murat while king of Naples. His wife 
was a pretty woman, rather en hon point, about thirty, and with 
the complete appearance and address of a gentlewoman. The 
doctor kept a very handsome establishment, and entertained 
small companies splendidly. 

The society I generally met there consisted, in the first 
place, of Colonel Macirone, who passed for an Italian, and had 
been aid-de-camp to Murat, but was, I believe, in fact the 
son of a respectable manufacturer in London, or on Blackheath. 
He has published an account of the romantic circumstances 
attendant on the death of the ill-fated Murat. Another mem- 
ber of the society was Count Julien, formerly, I believe, some 
secretary or civil officer of Murat, a huge, boisterous, overbear- 
ing fat man, consequential without being dignified, dressy 
without being neat, and with a showy politeness that wanted 
even the elements of civility. Count Julien was the only 



DE. MARSHALL A RELATIVE OF FOEUCH. 465 

person I met at Dr. Marshall's whose character or occupation 
I had any suspicions about. 

Fouche was then the emperor's minister of police, and they 
all appeared to be more or less ac(^uainted with him : but I 
had not at first the slightest idea that they were every one of 
them either spies or employes of the police minister, and but 
hollow friends, if not absolute traitors, to Napoleon. 

I met several other gentlemen less remarkable at Dr. Mar- 
shall's, but only one lady appeared besides the mistre&s of the 
house. This Avas a plain, rational, sedate, woman under forty. 
She was introduced to us by Mrs. Marshall as the wife of a 
relative of Fouche,' and at that time (with her husband) on a 
visit to his excellency at his hotel, Rue Cerutti. 

One day before dinner, at Dr. Marshall's house, I observed 
this lady, on our arrival, hurrying into Mrs. Marshall's boudoir, 
and when dinner was announced she re-entered decked out 
with a set of remarkable coral ornaments, which I had seen 
Mrs. Marshall wear several times. This circmnstance struck 
me at the moment, but was neither recollected nor accounted 
for till we paid an unlucky visit to that " relative of Fouche," 
when the whole enigma became developed, and my suspicions 
fairly aroused. 

Dr. Marshall meanwhile continued to gain much on my 
esteem. He saw that I was greedy of information as to the 
ajffairs of Italy ; and he, as well as Col. Macirone, saturated 
me in consequence with anecdotes of the court of Naples, and 
of Murat himself, highly entertaining, and I believe tolerably 
true — for I do really think that Macirone was sincerely at- 
tached to that king, and attended his person with friendship 
and sincerity. On the contrary. Count Julien seemed incapa- 
ble of possessing much feeling, and perfectly indifferent as to 
anybody's fate but his own. This, however, I. only give as my 
individual opinion : I soon lost sight of the man altogether. 

In the midst of this agreeable and respectable society, I 
passed my time during the greater part of the "Hundred 
Days :" and Dr. Marshall informing me, I believe, truly, that 
he was on terms of confidence (though not immediately) with 
Fouche, and well knowing that he might with perfect security 

20* 



4t66 THE ENGLISH IN PAEIS. 

communicate anytliing to me (seeing that I should be silent for 
my own sake), scarcely a clay passed but we had much con- 
versation in his garden ; and he certainly did give me very 
correct information as to the state of affairs and the condition 
of the emperor, together with much that was not equally cor- 
rect, regarding himself. This I occasionally and partially 
perceived ; but his address was imposing and particularly 
agreeable. 

We had also cultivated our acquaintance (originated through 
the adventure of the shawls) with Colonel Gowen, of the na- 
tional guards, whose hotel in Rue Clichy bore a most extraor- 
dinary castellated appearance, and was surrounded by very 
large gardens, where we v/ere nobly entertained : the leads of 
the hotel overlooked Tivoli, and, indeed, every place about 
Paris. The colonel lived extremely well ; spoke English 
perfectly ; and might, in fact, be mistaken for a hospitable 
officer of a British yeomanry corps. 

Another gentleman 1 also happened accidentally to meet, 
who was an English subject, and whom I had known many 
years previously. We became intimate, and I derived both 
utility and information from that intimacy. This gentleman 
knew, and had long known, much more of French affairs and 
individuals than any of my other acquaintances;- and being at 
the same time replete with good nature and good sense (Avith 
his politics I had nothing to do), I could not fail to be a gainer 
by our intercourse, which has continued undiminished to this day. 

Another and more remarkable personage, Mr. Arthur O'Con- 
nor, was then a Freneh general unemployed. I had known 
him thirty years before : he had married the daughter and 
sole heiress of the unfortunate and learned marquis de Con- 
dorcet j had been plundered of his Irish property by his brother 
Roger ; and was prohibited from returning to his native coun- 
try by act of parliament. General Arthur O'Connor was a 
remarkably strong-minded, clever man, with a fine face and a 
manly air; he had, besides, a great deal of Irish national 
character, to some of the failings whereof he united several of 
its best qualities. I met him frequently, and relished his 
company highly. For old acquaintance sake I professed and 



LOED AXD LADY KIXXAIED. 467 

felt a friendship for tlie man ; and, differing as we did wliolljr 
npon puljlic subjects, we talked over all without argnir.g upon 
any, which is the only agreeable method of conversation among 
persons whose opinions do not coincide. 

Lord and Lady Kinnaird were also in Paris at that period. 
I did not pay my respects to them for a very singular, though 
at such a time a very sufficient reason. Her ladyship was the 
daughter of one of my most respected friends, the late duke of 
Leinster, to every member of whose family I owe all possible 
attention : but Lord Kinnaird, by overacting his part, had. 
drawn on himself an absurd degree of suspicion ; and I had 
been informed by a friend, in confidence, that every person 
who was seen visiting him was immediately suspected likewise, 
and put secretly under surveillance, which would not have been 
particularly agreeable to me. In a little time this information 
was curiously illustrated. I was informed that Lord Kinnaird 
had been arrested by order of Fouche : but Fouclie soon found 
he had fallen into a ridiculous error ; and I believe his lordship 
was immediately liberated Avith an ample apology. I heard 
also incidentally among the employes (for I took care at all 
times to display no inordinate curiosity even though I might 
be literally bursting with that feeling), that his lordship was 
accustomed to express himself so hyperbolically in favor of 
Napoleon, that the police (to whom everything was made 
known by unsuspected domestics) could not give his lordship 
credit for sincerity, and therefore took for granted that he was 
playing some game or other: in fact, they fancied he was a 
spy ! using ultra eulogiums on the emperor to cloak a secret 
design. 

Messrs. Ilobhouse and Bruce were both in Paris at the same 
period, and I have often regretted that I did not know them. 
I afterward knew the latter well, when in La Force with Sir 
R. Wilson and my friend Mr. J. Hutchinson, for assisting the 
escape of Lavalette. I found in Mr. Bruce some excellent 
qualities, and a thirst after information which I admire iu 
anybody. 

These, together with the family of Mr. Talbot, were the 
only English persons whom I met in Paris immediately after 



468 THE ENGLISH IN PAKIS. 

my arrival and during the most momentous crisis Europe ever 
witnessed. That point of time formed tlie pivot whereon the 
future destiny of every nation in the fairest quarter of the 
globe was vibrating : but I am here trenching on a subject in 
which the nature of this work does not permit me to indulge. 

The successive occurrences at Paris, after Napoleon's return, 
were daily published and are known to everybody. The press 
was free from restraint, and every public act recorded : it was 
therefore to the private acts and characters of men I applied 
my observation, as forming the best ground for speculative 
opinions (which that portentous interval necessarily tended to 
stimulate), and likewise as calculated to yield the best mate- 
rials for future entertainment. 

Dr. Marshall was, as I have already stated^ on some occa- 
sions confidentially employed by Fouche ; and placing confi- 
dence in me — perhaps not duly estimating the extent of my 
curiosity — he was very communicative. In fact, not a day 
passed, particularly after Napoleon's return from Waterloo, that 
I did not make some discovery through the doctor (as much 
from his air of mystery as from his direct admissions), of 
Fouche's flagitious character, and of the ductility and total 
absence of principle exhibited by several of his employes. 

The intelligence I daily acquired did not surprise, but greatly 
disgusted me. I hate treachery in all its ramifications ; it is 
not, generally speaking, a French characteristic ; but Fouche 
certainly displayed a complete personification of that vice. 
Spies and traitors generally do each other strict justice, by the 
operation and exercise of mutual hatred, contempt, and invec- 
tive. I never heard one such person say a kind word of an- 
other hehind Ms hack ; and when a man is necessitated by pol- 
icy to puff a brother villain, it is not difficult for a stand er-by 
to decipher the sneer of jealousy and m.ental reservation dis- 
torting the muscles of the speaker's countenance, and involun- 
tarily disclosing tlie very feeling wkich lie was perhaps desir- 
ous to conceal. 

Thus was it with the various tools of the treacherous minis- 
ter : and in his own countenance were engraven distinctly the 
cliaracteristics of cunning and insincerity. From the first 



MADAME LA PAKENTE DE MINISTEE FOUCHE. 469 

moment I saw Fouclie, and more particularly when I heard 
him falsely swear fidelity to his imperial master, I involun- 
tarily imbibed a strong sensation of dislike. His features held 
out no inducement to you to place ct)nfidence in their owner : 
on the contrary, they could not but tend to beget distrust and 
disesteem. The suspicions which they generated in me, I 
never could overcome, and the sequel proved how just they were. 

After awhile, I began slightly to suspect the species of soci- 
ety I was associating with, and it occurred to me to request 
that Lady Barrington would pay a visit to the lady we had 
met at Dr. Marshall's, and whom we had understood from Mrs. 
Marshall to be on a visit to Fouche, her relative. I proposed 
to go also, and leave my card for her husband whom we had 
not yet seen. We accordingly waited on them at Fouche's 
hotel, and asked the Swiss if madame was at home. 

" Madame .^" said the porter ; ^nadame ! quelle madame ?" 
as if he had heard us imperfectly. We had forgotten her 
name, and could therefore only reply, " Madame la parente de 
monsieur le ministrcr 

" There is no such person here, monsieur," replied the Swiss, 
with a half-saucy shrug. 

" Oh, yes," exclaimed I : " she is on a visit to the Due 
D'Otrante." , 

" Non, non, monsieur et TJiadame,''^ repeated the pertinacious 
Swiss : ''point du tout /" and seemed impatient to send us 
away ; but after a moment's pause, the fellow burst into a vio- 
lent fit of laughter. " I beg your pardon, monsieur et madame," 
said he, " I begin to understand whom you mean. Your friend 
undoubtedly resides in the hotel, but she is just now from home." 

I handed him our cards for her and her husband. On read- 
ing " Le Chiralier et Milady,''^ the man looked more respectful, 
but apparently could not control his laughter. When, how- 
ever, he at length recovered himself, he bowed very low, begged 
pardon again, and said he thought we had been inquiring for 
some iraie madame. The word stimulated my curiosity, and 
I hastily demanded its meaning ; when it turned out that mon- 
sieur was the maitre d'hotel, and madame, his wife, looked to 
the linen, china, (fee, in quality' of confidential housekeeper. 



470 THE ENGLISH LN TAEIB. 

We waited to hear no more. I took up our cards and away 
we went ; and my suspicions as to tliat lady's rank were tlius 
set at rest. I did not say one word of tlie matter at Dr. Mar- 
sliall's, but I suppose the porter told the lady, as we never saw 
her afterward, nor her husband at all. 

I now began to perceive my way more clearly, and redoubled 
my assiduity to decipher the events which passed around me. 
In this I was aided by an increased intimacy with Colonel 
Macirune, whom closer acquaintance confirmed as an agreea- 
ble and gentlemanly man, and who in my opinion was very 
badly selected as an esjpion : I believe his heart was above his 
degrading occupation. 

I perceived that there was some plot going forward, the cir- 
cumstances of which it was beyond my power to develop. 
The manner of the persons I lived among was perpetually un- 
dergoing some shade of variation ; the mystery thickened ; and 
my curiosity increased with it. 

In the end this curiosity was most completely gratified ; but 
all I could determine on at the moment was, that there existed 
an extensive organized system of deception and treachery, at 
the bottom of which was undoubtedly Fouclie himself; wheth- 
er, however, my employe acquaintances would ultimately betray 
the emperor or his minister, seemed, from their evidently loose 
political principles, quite problematical. I meanwhile dreaded 
everybodyj yet affected to fear none, and listened with an air 
of unconcern to the stories of my valet, Henry Thevenot, 
though at that time I gave them no credit : subsequent occur- 
rences, however, rendered it manifest that this man procured, 
somehow or other, sure information. 

Among other matters, Thevenot said he knew well that 
there was an intention, if opportunity occurred, of assassinating 
Napoleon on his road to join the army in Belgium.* I did not 
much relish being made the depository of such dangerous se- 
crets, and ordered my servant never to mention before me 
again " any such ridiculous stories," otherwise I should dis- 

* I have often thought that the ultimate desertion of tlie mameluke who liad 
always been retained by Napoleon about liis person had some very deep 
reason for it ; and to this moment, that circumstance appears to require 
clearing up. 



ABDUCTION OF THE IlEGALIA. 471 

charge him as an unsafe person. Yet I could not keep his 
tongue from wagging, and I really dreaded dismissing him. 
He said " that Fouche was a traitor to his master ; that several 
of the cannon at Mont-martre were rendered unserviceable ; 
and that mines had been charged with gunpowder under vari- 
ous parts of the city preparatory to some attempt at counter 
revolution." 



INAUGURATION OF THE EMPEEOR. 

The Peers aiid Deputies summoned for the 8th of June — Abduction of the Regalia by the 
Royalists — Author obtains a Ticket of Admission to the GMilery of the Chamber of Dep- 
uties, to Witness the Ceremony — Grenadiei's of the Old' Guard — Enthusiasm of the Mil- 
itary, and Comparative Quiescence of the other Ranks — Entrance of Napoleon into the 
Chamber — Sketch of his Appearance and that of Madame Mere — Administration of the 
Oath of Alleaiance — The Duke of Otranto and Count Thibaudeau — The Imperial Speech 
and its Ineffective Delivery. 

The days rolled on, and in their train brought summer and 
the month of June, on the 8th day of which, the peers and dep- 
uties of the legislative body were summoned to attend collec- 
tively at two o'clock in the chamber of deputies, to receive the 
emperor, and take the oath of fidelity to him and to the con- 
stitution, in the midst of all the splendor which the brilliant 
metropolis of France could supply. The abduction of the rega- 
lia by some friends of King Louis, when they ran away to 
Ghent, had left Napoleon without any crown Avherewith to grat- 
ify the vanity of a people at all times devoted to every species 
of spectacle ; he had only a button and loop of brilliants which 
fastened up his Spanish hat, over the sides whereof an immense 
plumage hung nodding. But this was such a scene, and such 
an occasion, that a wreath of laurel would have become the 
brow of Napoleon far better than all the diamonds in the uni- 
verse ! The whole of the imperial family were to be present. 

The num^ber of persons who could be admitted as spectators 
into the gallery was necessarily very limited : and in a great 
metropolis where everybody is devoted to show, the difficulty 
of procuring admission would, I conceived, be of course propor- 
tionably great. It may be well imagined that I was indefati- 



472 INAUGURATION OF THE EMPEROR. 

gable in seeking to obtain tickets, as this spectacle was calcu- 
lated to throw everything besides that I had witnessed in 
Paris completely into the background ; and what tended still 
more to whet the edge of my curiosity, was the reflection that 
it would, in all probability, be the last opportunity I should 
have of deliberately viewing the emperor, whose departure 
from Paris to join the army was immediately contemplated. 

I therefore made interest Avith everybody I knew ; I even 
wrote to the authorities ; and, in short, left no means whatever 
untried which suggested themselves to me. At length, when 
I began to think my chance a very poor one, on the day actu- 
ally preceding th<3 ceremony:, to my unspeakable gratification 
I received a note from the chamberlain, enclosing an admis- 
sion for one, which the difficulty I had everywhere encoun- 
tered led me to esteem a great favor. I did not think that, at 
my age, I could possibly be so anxious about anything : but I 
believe there are few persons who will not admit that the ex- 
citement was great, occasioned by the prospect of contempla- 
ting, for a length of time and in a convenient situation, the 
bodily presence of a man to whom posterity is likely to award 
greater honors than can be conceded to him by' the prejudices 
of the present race. 

The programme announced that all Napoleon's marshals and 
generals, together with the veterans of his staff and the male 
branches of his family, were to be grouped around him ; as 
were likewise several of those statesmen whose talents had 
helped originally to raise him to the throne, and whose treach- 
ery afterward succeeded in hurling him a second time from it. 
The peers and deputies, in their several ranks and costumes, 
were each, individually and distinctly, on that day, to swear 
new allegiance to their emperor, and a lasting obedience to 
the constitution. 

The solemnity of Napoleon's inauguration, and that of his 
promulgating the new constitution at the Champ de Mars, made 
by far the greatest impression on my mind of all the remarka- 
ble public or private occurrences I had ever witnessed. The 
intense interest, the incalculable importance, not only to France 
but to the world, of those two great events, generated reflec- 



ADMISSION TO THE CHAMBEE OF DEPUTIES. 473 

tions within me more weighty and profound than any I had 
hitherto entertained : while the variety of glittering dresses, 
the novelty and the everchanging nature of the objects around 
me, combined to cheat me almost into a belief that I had mi- 
grated to fairy land, and in fact to prevent me horn, fixing my 
regards on anything. 

The first of those days was the more interesting to France 
— the second to Europe at large. Though totally unparelleled 
in all their bearings, and dissimilar from every other histori- 
cal incident ancient or modern, yet these solemnities seem to 
have been considered by most who have written upon the 
subject as little more than ordinary transactions. Were I to 
give my feelings full play in reciting their effect on myself, I 
should at this calmer moment be perhaps set down as a vision- 
ary or enthusiast. I shall, therefore, confine myself to simple 
narrative. 

The procession of the emperor from the Tuileries to the 
chambers, though short, was to have been of the most impo- 
sing character. But, much as I wished to see it, I found that 
by such an attempt I might lose my place in the gallery of 
the chamber, and, consequently, the view of the inauguration 
scene. At eleven o'clock, therefore, I brought my family to a 
house on the quay, for which I had previously paid dearly ; 
and Avhere having placed them at a window, I repaired myself 
to the chamber of deputies, in company of a French colonel, 
who had been introduced to us by Colonel Growen, and who 
kindly undertook to be my usher, and to point out to me the 
most celebrated vf arriors and generals of the guard and army, 
who in groups promenaded the courts and gardens of the sen- 
ate-house, awaiting the appointed hour for parading to receive 
the emperor. This gentleman, in fact, introduced me to several 
officers and persons of rank ; and though at that moment war, 
attended by all its horrors, was deemed inevitable, I was ad- 
dressed with a courtesy and gentlemanly frankness, which, 
under similar circumstances, would in any other country, I 
fear have been wanting. They spoke without reserve of the 
tremendous struggle about to be commenced ; but" not a man 
of them appeared to me to have a single doubt of triumphing ; 



474 INAUGTJRATION OF THE EMPEROK. 

and had my own country been neutral or uninterested, I cer- 
tainly should have preferred the brilliance of Napoleon's des- 
potism to the contracted, glimmering tyranny of his continen- 
tal enemies. But I knew that Great Britain was implicated. 
Napoleon and England might coalesce for a moment ; but I 
felt that the ascendency of the former was incompatible with 
the powder of the latter, and I was chilled by the reflection, 
which in some degree abated my relish for the striking scenes 
before me. 

Among other individuals of note presented to me by the 
colonel, was Labedoyere, who was destined so soon to atone 
with the forfeiture of his life for his fidelity to his first patron. 
I had heard then nothing particular of this man, and conse- 
quently took but little notice of him. There was not one 
whom I remarked more than Ney, then prince of Moskwa. 
*' That," said the colonel, as he pointed him out to me, " is the 
greatest sahreur in Europe :" and Ney's rough, manly, sun- 
burnt countenance, well set off by his muscular, warlike figure, 
confirmed the character. " There," continued my informant, 
pointing to a civilian in full dress, '* is one of the truest parti- 
sans the emperor has in France — Count Thibaudeau." I had 
previously remarked the person to whom my attention was 
thus directed, as one not formed of common materials, and had 
occasion sooii after to observe him still more particularly. 

So many of the objects of that day have been sketched in 
various publications, that I shall not endeavor to give any- 
thing in the shape of a list of them, but content myself with 
the mention of those which struck me most forcibly at the mo- 
ment. 

Whoever was in Paris during the " Hundred Days," must 
have seen the old guard of Napoleon. Such a body of soldiers 
(all appearing of the self-same character) I believe never was 
collected ! Their herculean vigor, more than the height of 
their persons, was remarkable ; and their dark, deep-furrowed 
visages (enveloped in mustaches and surmounted by the bear's 
skin of their lofty caps, glittering with ornaments), combined, 
together with their arms, their clothes, and more particularly 
their steadiness, to exhibit to me the most complete model of 



ENTHUSIASM OF THE MILITARY. 475 

genuine soldiers. Their looks, thougli the very emMem of 
gravity and determination, were totally devoid of ferocity ; 
and I could fancy the grenadiers of the old gniard to he heroes 
uniting the qualities of fidelity, of valor, and of generosity : 
their whole appearance indeed was most attractive. 

The cavalry had dismounted, and were sitting around on 
the steps and parapets of the edifice, mostly employed in 
sharpening their sabres with small hones ; and the whole seemed 
to me as if actuated only by an ardent wish to proceed to ac- 
tion. One ojfficer asked me in English, rather more freely 
than the rest, if I knew the British commander (Lord Wel- 
lington). I said I did. " Well," replied he, " we shall have a 
brush with him before the week is over!" and turned away 
with an expression strongly indicative of contempt. I believe 
Lord Wellington did not quite anticipate the short time that 
would be. given him by his opponents. My observations and 
introductions were however at length interrupted by the first 
cannon, which announced that the emperor had commenced 
his passage from the Tuileries. All was in immediate bustle ; 
the drums beat, the trumpets sounded, the deputies and offi- 
cials flocked into their halls, the cuirassiers were mounted, the 
grenadiers in line, the officers at their stations ; and in five 
minutes the mingled and motley crowd was arranged in order 
so regular and so silently assumed, that it was almost imjDossi- 
ble to suppose they had ever been in confusion. The different 
bands struck up ; they had received orders respecting the airs 
that should be played as the emperor approached, which they 
began to practise, and the whole scene, almost in a moment, 
T7ore an aspect entirely new. 

• The firing of cannon continued : the emperor had advanced 
along the quays, and passed over that very spot where the 
last French monarch had, twenty years before, been immo- 
lated by his subjects. The word enthusiasm, strong as its 
meaning is generally held to be, really failed, on this occasion, 
to express as iimch as the military seemed- to feel. The citi- 
zens who thronged around did not however, it is true, appear 
to partake in this sentiment to anything like a corresponding 
extent. Whether it was that they felt it not, or that they 



476 INAUGURATION OF THE EMPEKOR. 

were conscious of acting a subordinate part in the pageant 
(which unquestionably bore too much of a military character), 
I do not kno\y. 

I proceeded without delay to the stairs which led to my 
loge, as noted on my admission ticket. This loge^ however, it 
turned out to be no easy, matter to find. My heart began to 
sink ; I inquired of everybody ; some did not understand, 
others looked contemptuously ; nobody would pay the least 
attention to my solicitations. Thus I seemed likely, after all, 
to lose the benefit of my exertions. Meanwhile every new 
discharge of cannon seemed as if announcing, not only the 
emperor's approach, but my exclusion, from the chamber ; and 
I was getting fast into a state of angry hopelessness, when an 
officer of the guard, who saw that I was a foreigner, addressed 
me in English. I explained to him my embarrassments and 
fears, and. showed him my ticket. He told me I was on the 
wrong side, and was so good as to send a soldier with me to 
the door of the box,? I rapped, and was instantly admitted. 
There were two rows of chairs, and accommodation for three 
persons to stand behind. I was one of the latter ; and it was 
impossible to be better situated for hearing and seeing every- 
thing. My loge, exactly faced the throne ; and in the next 
sat the emperor's mother, and all the females, with their at- 
tendants. I knew nobody : I saw no English there : there 
was one person in full dress, who was said to be un chevalier 
JEcosse, and who having distinguished himself and announced 
his nation by making an abominable disturbance about some- 
thing or other, was very properly turned out. We sat in 
silent expectation of the emperor's arrival, which was to be 
announced by the cessation of the repeated salutes of artillery. 
The moments were counted : the peers and deputies were 
seated in their places, all in full dress — the former occupying 
the front benches, and the deputies ranged behind them. 
Servants of the chamber, in the most splendid liveries that 
can be conceived, were seen busy at all the side doors : the 
front door was underneath our loge; it was therefore impossi- 
ble for me to see the effect of the first appearance of the em- 
peror, who at length, followed by a numerous retinue, crossed 



ENTRANCE OF NAPOLEON". 477 

the cliainber — not majestically, but with rather hurried steps : 
haying slightly raised his hat, he seated himself abruptly on 
the throne, and Avrapping himself in his purple cloak, sat 
silent. 

The scene was altogether most interesting; but there was 
no time for contemplation. The whole assembly immediately 
rose; and if a judgment might be formed from the outward 
expression of their feelings, it would be inferred that Napo- 
leon was enthroned in the heart of almost every peer and 
deputy who that day received him. A loud, continued, and 
unanimous burst of enthusiastic congratulation proceeded from 
every quarter ; it echoed throughout the whole chamber, and 
had all the attributes of sincerity. One circumstance I par- 
ticularly remarked : the old cry of " Vive I'empereur," was 
discontinued, and, as if the spectators' hearts were too full to 
utter more, they limited themselves to a single word, " re?n- 
fereui' ! Vempe7-eur ./" alone bursting from the whole assembly. 
I found afterward that there was a meaning in this : inasmuch 
as the ceremony was not a mere greeting — it was an inaugu- 
ration of the emperor. It was this solemnity which in fact 
recreated his title after his formal abdication, and the assembly 
thus noted the distinction. 

Meanwhile, Napoleon sat apparently unmoved ; he occa- 
sionally touched his hat, but spake not. I stood immediately 
in front of, and looking down on, the throne ; and being in 
the back row, could use my opera-glass without observation. 
Napoleon was at that moment, all circumstances considered, 
the most interesting personage in existence. His dress, al- 
though rich, was scarcely royal ; he was not, as a king should 
'be by prescription, covered with jewels ; he had no crown, 
and wore the same dress exactly as he afterward did on his 
visit to the Champ-de-Mars — namely, a black Spanish hat, 
fastened up in front with a diamond loop and button; heavy 
plumes of ostrich feathers, which hung nodding over his fore- 
head ; and rather a short cloak of purple velvet, embroidered 
with golden bees. The dimensions of his person were thus 
concealed ; but his stature, which scarcely attained the middle 
height, seemed still lower on account of his square-built form 



4:78 INAUGUEATION OF THE EMPEROR. 

and his liigli and ungraceful shoulders : he was, in fact, by no 
means a majestic figure. I watched his eye ; it was that of a 
hawk, and struck me as being peculiarly brilliant. Without 
moving his head, or a single muscle of his countenance, his 
eye was everywhere, and really seemed omniscient : an almost 
imperceptible transition moved it from place to place, as if by 
magic ; an4 it was fixed steadily upon one object before a 
spectator could observe its withdrawal from another. 

Yet even at this moment, powerful as was the spell in which 
Napoleon's presence bound the spectator, my attention was 
drawn aside by another object which seemed to me to afford 
much scope for contemplation : this was the emperor's mother. 
I stood, as I have already said, in the next loge of the gallery 
to that occupied by the imperial family. The dutiful and af- 
fectionate regard of ISTapoleon to his mother is universally 
authenticated : and as his nature was not framed either to 
form or perpetuate mere attachments of course, it was natural 
to conclude that this lady's character had something about it 
worthy of remark. I was therefore curious to trace, as far as 
possible, the impressions made upon her by the passing scene. 

Madame Mere (as she was then called) was a very fine old 
lady, apparently about sixty, but looking strong and in good 
health. She was not, and I believe never had been, a beauty ; 
but was, nevertheless, well-looking, and possessed a cheerful, 
comfortable countenance. In short, I liked her appearance : 
it was plain and unassuming, and I set my mind to the task of 
scrutinizing her probable sensations on that important day. 

Let us for a moment consider the situation of that mother, 
who, while in an humble sphere of life, and struggling Avith 
many difficulties, had born, nursed, and reared a son, who, at 
an early age, and solely by his own superior talents, became 
ruler of one of the fairest portions of the civilized creation ; to 
whom kings and princes crouched and submitted, and trans- 
ferred their territories and their subjects, at his will and pleas- 
ure ; to whom the whole world, except England, had cringed ; 
whom one great emperor had flattered and fawned on, hand- 
ing over to him a favorite daughter even while the conqueror's 
true wife was living ; and whom the same bewildered emperor 



THE EMPEKOk's MOTHER. 479 

had afterT\-ard assisted in rousing all Europe to overtlirow — 
thus dethroning his daughter, disinheriting his grandson, and ex-' 
posing himself to the contempt and derision of the universe — 
only that he might have the gratification of enslaving six mil- 
lions of the Italian people ! The mother of >Tapoleon had 
seen all this ; and had, no doubt, felt bitterly that reverse of 
fortune whereby her son had been expelled and driven into 
exile," after his long dream of grandeur and almost resistless 
influence. "What, then, must be the sensations of that mother 
at the scene we are describing! — when she beheld the same 
son again hailed emperor of the French, restored to power 
and to his friends by the universal assent of a great nation and 
the firm attachment of victorious armies ! He remounted his 
throne before her eyes once more, and without the shedding 
of one drop of blood was again called to exercise those func- 
tions of royalty from which he had been a few months before 
excluded. 

It was under these impressions that I eagerly watched the 
countenance of that delighted lady : but her features did not 
appear to me sufficiently marked to give full scope to the indi- 
cation to her feeling. I could judge, in fact, nothing from any 
other feature except the eye, to which, when I could catch it, 
I looked for information. At first I could see only her profile ; 
but as she frequently turned round, her emotions were from 
time to time obvious. A tear occasionally moistened her cheek, 
but it evidently proceeded from a happy rather than a painful 
feeling — it was the tear of parental ecstasy. I could perceive 
no lofty sensations of gratified ambition, no towering pride, no 
vain and empty arrogance, as she viewed underneath her the 
peers and representatives of her son's dominions. In fact, I 
could perceive nothing in the deportment of Madame Mere 
that was not calculated to excite respect for her as a woman, 
and admiration of her as the person who had brought into the 
world a man for many years the most successful of his species. 

From observation of this interesting lady I was called off 
by the scene which followed. After the emperor had been 
awhile seated (his brothers and the public functionaries around 
him, as expressed in a printed programme), the oath was ad- 



480 INAUGURATION OF THE EMPEEOE. 

ministered to the peers and deputies individually, so tliat each 
was distinctly marked by name ; and what I considered most 
fortunate was, that a French gentleman, who sat immediately 
before me (I believe some public officer), was assiduous in giv- 
ing the two ladies who accompanied him, not only the name 
of each peer or deputy, as he took the oath, but also some de- 
scription of him. I took advantage of this incident, and in a 
little tablet copied down the names of such as I had heard 
spoken of as remarkable persons, and particularly the generals 
and marshals. 

The manner of administering and taking the oath was very 
different from ours.* The French had, from the period of the 
Revolution, very justly conceived that an oath of any descrip- 
tion would not be one atom more binding on the party if taken 
upon a book than if trust were reposed in their mere word of 
honor. On the present occasion, each person, as his name was 
called over, arose, and holding out his right arm to its extent 
(the palm of the hand uppermost), deliberately pronounced — 
*^ Je jure Jidelite a Vempereiir, et ohedience a la constitution^ The 
reader will easily believe that it was a source of the utmost in- 
terest to watch the countenances of these dignitaries of France 
while they were engaged in performing this imiportant ceremo- 
nial. My physiognomical observation was kept fully on the 
stretch, and was never, before or since, so sated with materials 
to work upon. The emperor, meanwhile, as I have already 

* One of the devices to prevent the accumulation of petty larceny, in the 
court of common pleas of Ireland, was very amusing. Lord Norbury's regis- 
ter, Mr. Peter Jackson, complained grievously to his lordsliip that he really 
could not afford to supply the court with gospels or prayer-books, as witnes- 
ses, after they had taken their oaths, were in the constant habit of stealing 
the hook ! "Peter," said Lord iSTorbmy, "if the rascals read the book, it 
will do them more good than the petty larceny may do them mischief." — 
"Read or not read," urged Peter, "they are rogues, that's plain. I have 
tied the book fast, but nevertheless they have contrived to loosen and ab- 
stract it." — " Well, well," replied my lord, " if they are not afraid of the cord, 
hang your gospel in chains, and that, perhaps, by reminding the fellows of 
the fate of their fathers and grandfathers, may make them behave them- 
selves." Peter Jackson took the hint: provided a good-looking, well-bound 
New Testament, which he secured with a strong jackchain that had evi- 
dently done duty before the kitchen-fire, and was made fast to the rail of 
the jury-gallery. Thus the holy volume had free scope to swing about and 
clink as much as it chose, to the great terror of witnesses, and good order 
of the jurors themselves. 



THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 4:81 

mentioned, sat almost immoveable. He did not appear exMl- 
arated ; indeed, on tlie other hand, I think he was indisposed. 
His breast heaved at times very perceptibly ; an involuntary- 
convulsed motion agitated his lip ; but never did I see an eye 
more indefatigable and penetrating ! As each man's name 
was called, and the oath administered, its regard was fixed 
upon the individual ; and nothing could be more curious to the 
spectator than to transfer his gaze alternately from the party 
taking the oath to the emperor himself. Some of the peers 
and deputies, Xapoleon's eye passed over with scarcely a look ; 
while others he regarded as though disposed to penetrate their 
very souls, and search there for proofs of a sincerity he consid- 
ered doubtful. Some seemed to excite a pleasurable, others a 
painful sensation, within him ; though this was difficult to rec- 
ognise, inasmuch as his features seldom, and never more than 
slightly, changed their entire expression. The countenances 
of the members themselves were more easily read, and afforded 
in many instances good clews whereby, if not the real feelings, 
at least the tendency of the parties, might be deciphered. Some 
stood boldly up, and loudly, and without hesitation, took the 
oath ; while others, in slow, tremulous voices, pledged them- 
selves to what they either never meant, or were not quite cer- 
tain of their ability, to perform ; and a few displayed manifest 
symptoms of repugnance in their manner. But the scene was 
of that nature so splendid — so generally interesting — that few 
persons, except those whose habits had long led them to the 
study of mankind, or such as might have some special interest 
in the result, would have attended to these indications, which 
were, of course, not suffered in any instance to become prom- 
inent. 

One of the first persons who took the oath was Fouche, duke 
of Otranto. I had been in this nobleman's office on my first 
arrival in Paris, and had marked his countenance. He had 
originally been a monk (I believe a Jesuit), and was on all 
hands admitted to be a man of the utmost talent, but at the 
same time wholly destitute of moral principle — a man who, in 
order to attain his ends, would disregard justice, and set opin- 
ion at insolent defiance. But, above all, Fouche's reigning 

21 



4:82 INAUGURATION OF THE EIStPEROR. 

character was rZz^j^^Zjc//?/ ; in that qualification of a statesman 
he had no rivaL Napoleon knew him thoroughlj ; but, cir- 
cumstanced as he was, he had occasion for such men. 

Yet even Fouche I really think was, on this day, off his 
guard. He was at the time, there can be little doubt, in actual 
communication with some of Napoleon's enemies; and he cer- 
tainly appeared, whether or not from " compunctious visitings 
of conscience," to be ill at his ease. I kept my eye much on 
him ; and it was quite obvious to me that some powerful train 
of feeling was working within his breast. On his name being 
called, there was nothing either bold, frank, or steady, in his 
appearance or demeanor. He held out his hand not much 
higher than his hip, and, in a tone of voice languid, if not fal- 
tering, swore to a fidelity which he was determined, should he 
find it convenient, to renounce. I really think (and my eye 
and glass were full upon him) that Fouche, at the moment, 
felt his own treachery. A slight hectic flush passed over his 
temples, and his tongue seemed to cleave to his mouth. I can 
not account for my impression further than this, but from that 
instant I set down the man as a traitor ! Napoleon for the 
first time turned his head as Fouche tendered his allegiance. 
I could perceive no marked *expression in the emperor's coun- 
tenance, which remained placid and steady ; but I could not 
help thinking that even that complacent regard (which cer- 
tainly indicated no confidence, if it v>'^as free from agitation) 
seemed to say, " I know you!" The ceremony proceeded; 
and after a while the name was called of a person whom I had 
before seen — Count Thibaudeau. The contrast between this 
gentleman and Fouche was very remarkable. He stood up 
quickly, and with great firmness stepped a little forward, and 
held his arm 7i?^7zer than his shoulder: *'Je jWc," exclaimed 
Count Thibaudeau; ^^jejure^^ — repeating the words with em- 
phasis — '■'■jidelite a mon einpereur, et obedience a la constitution .'" 
I watched Napoleon's look : it was still serene, but a ray of 
gratification was not absent, and shot rapidly across his fea- 
tures. The business at length terminated. I treasured up in 
my mind the impressions made upon it that day, and in very 
few of my forebodings was I eventually mistaken. 



THE IMPEKIAL SPEECH. 483 

The inatigiiration of the emperor was now complete, and the 
reflection was extremely solemn that all the powers of Europe 
were armed to overthrow the business of that morning. Nei- 
ther peace nor truce was to be made with Napoleon, who was, 
on his part, about to try the strength of France alone against 
a union of inveterate and inexorable foes. He was now about 
to inform his assembled legislators of this decision, and to 
make a declaration that should at once rouse the French peo- 
ple generally, and instil into the legislature a portion of his 
own energy. 

I was all expectation. The critical moment arrived : the 
occasion — ^the place^ — the subject — and more especially the 
effect expected to be produced — all combined in leading me 
to anticipate some speech more impressive than any I had 
ever heard. 

The emperor rose from his throne rather quickly, raised his 
hat for a moment, and looked round him with a glance which, 
though probably meant to imply confidence, had to me the 
expression of scrutiny. Having done this, he reseated himself, 
and commenced his speech. In language, it was well adapted 
to the French soldiery; as a proclamation, it might be consid- 
ered admirable; but to a legislative assembly, it seemed to me 
(perhaps erroneously) ill adapted. I did expect, at all events, 
that it would be pronounced with that energy which was in- 
dicative of the speaker's character ; but miserably was I dis- 
appointed ! Napoleon read it distinctly, but, to my mind, 
utterly without effect: there was no ardor, no emphasis, no 
modulation of voice, no action to enforce the sentiment. The 
delivery was monotonous and unimpressive ; nor can I yet 
'Conceive how it was possible such a man could pronounce such a 
speech without evincing that warmth of feeling which the words, 
as well as the great subject itself (to say nothing of his own 
situation), were calculated to inspire. The French in general 
read extremely ill ; and Napoleon's style of elocution was a 
very humble specimen even of theirs. He ran the sentences 
into each other; in short, seemed to view the whole. thing as a 
mere matter of course, and to be anxious to get through it. It 
put me more in mind of a solicitor reading a marriage-settle- 



484 INAUGUEATION OF THE EMPEROR. 

ment than anything else. Here and there, indeed, he ap- 
peared soinewliat touched by the text, and most probably he 
hijnself ioit it all ; but he certainly expressed nothiug in a man- 
ner that could make others feel it. The concluding words of 
the speech — " This is the moment to conquer or to perish" — 
though pronounced by I^apoleon with little more energy than 
the preceding parts (very much as if he had been saying, ''And 
your jjetitioner will ever pray"), made a strong and visible im- 
pression upon the entire auditory. Two or three of the depu- 
ties, I observed, by (to all appearance) an involuntary move- 
ment, put their hands on their sword-hilts, and whispered to 
those who sat next them; and among the military officers who 
were in the assembly there was evidently a very gallant feel- 
ing. I cast my eye at this moment on Fouche : he was look- 
ing upon the ground, seemingly in contemplation, and moved 
not a muscle. 

At the conclusion of his speech, Napoleon, whose vapid man- 
ner had considerably damped my previous excitement, imme- 
diately descended from the throne, and, in the same state, and 
amid redoubled applauses, returned to the palace to make his 
last preparations to put into execution what I have since heard 
denominated by. English generals the finest military manoeuvre 
of his whole life. Two things seem to be universally admit- 
ted : that the first object of that train of movements — namely, 
the surprise and division of the allied troops — was completely' 
siiccessfal ; and that its second object — the defeat of those 
troops in a general engagement — w^as so near its accomplish- 
ment, that its failure may almost be regarded as miraculous. 

I returned home full of reflection. I soon recounted all my 
impressions (particularly with respect to Fouche and Napoleon) 
to my family and two or three friends who dined with us. I 
did not hesitate to speak frankly my opinion of the game 
played by the duke of Otranto, nor did any long period elapse 
before my predictions were verified. 



PEEPAEATIONS TO PEOMULGATE THE CONSTITUTION. 485 



PROMULGATION OF THE' CONSTITUTION. 

Apathy of the People — Temporary Building in Front of the Hotel de3 Invalides — Pont de 
Jena — Policy of Napoleon regarding Fouche — Procession to the Champ de Mars — Pecu- 
liar Accoutrements of a Regiment of Cavalry — Reflections on some Points in the Hi-tory 
of Napoleon — His Mistake in changing the Ri'publican into a Munarchical Government — 
Coaches of Cerenmny of the French Noblesse and Officers of State — The Emperor's Lib- 
erality to various Members of his Court — His Personal Dfjection on this Day — Rejoicings 
succeeding the Promulgation — Superiority of the Fiench in Matters of Embelli.-hment — 
Gratuitous Distribution of Provisions and Wine — Politeness of the Lower Orders of 
Fiench — Display of Fireworks — Mr. Hobhouse's " Second Rt igu of Napoleon." 

The promulgation of the new articles of tlie constitution by 
Napoleon at the Cliamjp de Wars, promised to elicit much of 
the public sentiment. For my own part, I conceived that it 
would be the true touchstone of Parisian feeling ; but in that 
idea I was greatly disappointed. 

It was natural to suppose that the modification of a consti- 
tution, by a nearly despotic monarch, whereby his own power 
would be greatly contracted, would, even under Napoleon's 
circumstances, be considered one of the measures best calcu- 
lated to propitiate a long-trammelled population. But, in fact, 
the thing assumed no such character. The sjyeciacle, seemed, 
indeed, of the utmost value to the Parisians, but the constitu- 
tion of little, if any. They had never possessed any regular 
constitution, and, I really think, had no settled or digested 
ideas upon the subject. 

The extraordinary splendor of the preparations for this cer- 
emony, and the admixture of civil and military pomp, were to 
me very interesting. The temporary buildings thrown up for 
the occasion might, it is true, be denominated tawdry ; yet, 
strangely enough, there is no other people except the French 
who can deck out such gewgaws with anything like corre- 
sponding taste and effect. 

The scene was on an immense scale. In an inconceivably 
short time, and almost as if by the effect of magic, a sort of 
amphitheatre was constructed in front of the Hotel des Inva- 
lides, and which was of magnitude sTifficient to contain about 
fifteen thousand persons. In the centre arose an altar, similar 



4:S6 PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 

to those provided, in ancient sacrifices, for tlie sacred Jirc to de- 
scend upon ; and at this altar Cardinal Camhaceres presided. 
A great proportion of the front of the hospital was covered 
with crimson velvet, and the imperial throne was placed on 
the platform of the first story, facing the altar : around it were 
seats for the princes. I was not present at the actual cere- 
mony within the great temporary edifice. 

I had, on the occasion of the inauguration (as already stated), 
fully satisfied myself as to the demeanor of both the emperor 
and the senators ; but I had not seen the grand cortege which 
had preceded ; and on this occasion, as it was to be much more 
of a military procession, and the emperor's last public appear- 
ance before he joined the army to decide the fate of Europe, 
I was desirous of witnessing the spectacle, and accordingly 
engaged a window on the quay for my family, in. a house close 
to the Pont de Jena, over which the whole must pass on its 
way to the Hotel des Invalides. We had thence a close and 
full view of the Champ de Mars, of the amphitheatre, and of 
the artificial mount whence the constitution was to be pro- 
claimed by the emperor in person to the people. 

Napoleon well knew the great importance of leaving a strong 
impression on the public feeling. His posting from the coast 
to the Tuileries without interruption was the most extraordi- 
nary event in history, ancient or modern : but it was not im^ne- 
diately followed up by any unusual circumstance, or any very 
splendid spectacle, to rouse or gratify Parisian volatility. The 
retired official life of the emperor after his return (necessarily 
absorbed in business night and day) had altogether excited 
little or no stir, and still less expression of public feeling, in 
the metropolis ; in fact, the Parisians did not seem to feel so 
much interest about the state of affairs as they would have 
done upon the most unimportant occurrences. They make 
light of everything except their ^:'/e(25«<;re, which always was 
and always will be the god of Paris ; and never was any deity 
more universally and devoutly worshipped ! The king's flight 
to Ghent was then as little thought of or regarded as if he had 
gone to St. Cloud ; and Napoleon's arrival made as little stir 
as Louis's departure. But the emperor was now about to go 



PEOCESSION TO THE CHAMP DE MAES. 48T 

to battle ; was well aware of tlie treaclieiy wliich surrounded 
him, and that on his success or discomfiture depended its ex- 
plosion. He determined, therefore, as he had not time to coun- 
teract, to dissemble : and I have no dQubt that to this circum- 
stance alone Fouche knew he owed his existence. The month 
preceding Napoleon's departure from Paris, he became thorough- 
ly acquainted with the intrigues of his minister ; and I firmly be- 
lieve that each was determined on the destruction of the other 
upon the first feasible opportunity, as the only means of secu- 
ring himself. I do believe that Fouche would not have sur- 
vived Bonaparte's successful return more than four-and-twenty 
hours, and I equally believe that Fouche had actually medi- 
tated, and made some progress in providing for, Napoleon's 
assassination. I made up my mind on these points, not from 
any direct information, but from a process yclept by our great- 
grandmothers " spelling and splitting together ;"" and if the reader 
will be good enough to bear in mind what I told him respect- 
ing the society at Dr. Marshall's," as well as the intelligence 
acquired by my servant Thevenot, he will not be at a loss to 
understand lioio I got at my materials. 

In truth, the army alone, I suspect, was sincerely attached 
to the reinstated monarch. By his soldiers Bonaparte was, in 
every part of his career, almost worshipped. They seemed to 
regard him rather as a demigod, and nobody could be deceived 
as to their entire devotion to the divinity which they had set 
up. But it was not so with the civil ranks of Paris. 

I should tire myself and readers were I to describe the al- 
most boyish anxiety which I felt when the firing of the ord- 
nance announced the first movement of the emperor from the 
. Tuileries to the Cliam.p de Mars. I shall leave to the suppo- 
sition of the reader the impression I received from the passing 
of the cortege. Let him picture to himself an immense army 
pouring along the spacious quays of Paris, in battalions and 
squadrons — the enthusiasm of the soldiers, the bright cuiras- 
ses, the multitude of waving plumes — the magnificence of the 
marshals and their staff : these, set off by tlic glowing sun, 
combined to implant in the mind of a person unaccustomed to 
such a sight the idea of almost certain victory. 



488 PEOMULGATION OF THF CONSTITUTION. 

What struck me most was the appearance of a splendid but 
not numerous regiment, in the costume of Turkish cavahy, 
mounted upon small barbs, and dashingly accoutred. Their 
officers rode, for the most part, piebald horses, many of which 
were caparisoned with breast-armor, and decked in gaudy 
trappings. The uniform, of the men was scarlet, with green 
Cossack trowsers, immense turbans, and high plumes of feath- 
ers — the whole ornamented and laced in as splendid and glit- 
tering a style as ingenuity could dictate ; their stirrups were 
footboards, and they had very crooked sabres and long lances. 
I believe these men were accoutred en Mamduclc, and I men- 
tion them the more particularly, because I believe they did not 
go to Waterloo — ^at least not in that uniform. In calling to 
my recollection this superb scene, the hundred, bands of m.ar- 
tial music seem even at this moment to strike my ear. It 
seemed as if every instrument in Paris was in requisition ! 
The trumjoets and kettledrums of the gaudy heralds, the deep 
sackbuts, the crashing cymbals, and the loud gongs of the 
splendid Mamelukes, bewildered both the ear and the imagi- 
nation : at first they astonished, then gratified, and at length 
fatigued me. About the centre of this procession appeared its 
principal object — who, had he lived in times of less fermenta- 
tion, would, in my opinion, have been a still greater statesman 
than he was a warrior. It is indisputable that it was Bona- 
parte who freed the entire continent of Europe from that demo- 
cratic mania, of all other tyrannies the most cruel, savage, and 
unrelenting ; and which was still in full, though less-rapid prog- 
ress, when he, by placing the diadem of France on his own 
brow, restored the pi'inciple of monarchy to its vigor, and at 
one blow overwhelmed the many -headed monster of revolution. 

It has been the fashion, in England, to term Napoleon a 
" Oorsican usurper." We should have recollected Paoli before 
we rcjjroaclied him for being a Corsican, and we should have 
recurred to ow oion annals before we called him a usurper ! 
He mounted a throne which had long been vacant : the decap- 
itation of Louis, in which he could have had no concern, had 
completely overwhelmed the dynasty of Bourbon, and Napo- 
leon in a day re-established that monarchical form of govern- 



STATE-COACHES OF FRENCH NOBLESSE. 489 

ment wliicli ue had, with so much expense of blood and treas- 
ure, been for many years nnsuccessfully attempting to restore^ 
I can not avoid repeating this pointed example of our oicn in- 
consistency. We actually made peace and concluded treaties 
with Napoleon Bonaparte when he Avas acting as a republican 
(the very species of government against which we had so long 
combated), and we refused to listen to his most pacific demon- 
strations when he became a monarch !* 

This has, I confess, been a sad digression; but Avhen I call 
to mind that last scene of Bonaparte's splendor, I can not alto- 
gether separate from it the prior portion of his history and that 
of Europe. I have mentioned that about the centre of the 
cortege the emperor and his court appeared. It was the cus- 
tom in France for every person of a certain rank to keep a 
sort of state-coach gaudily gilded and painted, and, in addition 
to the footmen, a chasseur to mount behind, dressed e7i grande 
toilette, with huge mustaches, immense feathers in his hat, and 
a large sabre depending from a broad-laced belt, which crossed 
his shoulder. He was generally a muscular, fine-looking man, 
and ahvays indicated rank and affluence in his master. Na- 
poleon liked this state to be preserved by all his ministers, &c. 
He obliged every man in ofiice to appear at court and in pub- 
lic according to the station he held ; and instances were not 
wanting where the emperor, having discovered that an officer 
of rank had not pecuniary means to purchase a coach of cere- 
mony, had made him a present of a very fine one. He repeat- 
edly paid the debts of several of his marshals and generals 
when he thought their incomes somewhat indequate : and a 
case has been mentioned, where a high officer of his household 
had not money to purchase jewels for his wife, of Napoleon or- 
dering a set to be presented to her, with an injunction to wear 
them at court. 

On this day he commanded the twelve mayors of Paris to 
appear in their carriages of ceremony ; and, to do them justice, 

* Another observation I can not but make on this subject. As events 
have turned out, jSTapoleon only sat down on flie tlirone of France to keep 
it for the Bourbons. Had he remained a repubiican, as when we acknowl- 
edged and made peace with him, the names of the whole family of Louis 
Capet would still have appeared on the pensiou-list of England ! 

21* 



490 PEOMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 

they were gilt and caparisoned as finely as time and circum- 
stances could admit. Bonaparte liimself sat alone, in a state- 
coacli, with glass all round it. His feathers bowed deeply 
over his face, and consequently little more than the lower 
parts of it were quite uncovered. Whoever has marked the 
countenance of Napoleon must admit it to have been one of 
the most expressive ever created. When I say this, I beg to 
be understood as distinguishing it entirely from what is gener- 
ally called an expressive countenance — namely, one involun- 
tarily and candidly proclaiming the feelings whereby its pro- 
prietor is actuated : the smile, or the look of scorn — the blush, 
or the tear, serving not unfrequently to communicate matters 
which the lips would have kept secret. Though that species 
of expressive countenance may be commonly admired, it is 
often inconvenient, and would be perfectly unbefitting a king, 
a courtier, a gambler, an embassador, or, in short, a man in 
any station of life which renders it incumbent on him to Tieejp 
his countenance. The lower portion of Bonaparte's face (as I 
have mentioned in speaking of my first glance at it) was the 
finest I think I ever saw, and peculiarly calculated to set the 
feelings of others on speculation, without giving any decided inti- 
mation of his own. On the day of the promulgation it occurred 
to me, and to my family likewise, as we saw him pass slowly 
under our window, that the unparalleled splendor of the scene 
failed in arousing him from that deep dejection which had ap- 
parently seized him ever since his return to Paris, and which 
doubtless arose from a consciousness of his critical situation, 
and the hollow ground whereon he trod. There Avas ill-timed 
languor in his general look : he smiled not, and took but little 
notice of any surrounding object. He appeared, in fact, loaded 
with some presentiment — confined, however, to himself; for, 
of all possible events, his approaching and sudden fate was 
last, I believe, in the contemplation of any person among that 
prodigious assembly. I apprehend the intelligence of Murat's 
defeat in Italy had reached liim about that time. 

Two marshals rode on each side of ISTapoleon's coach, and 
his three brothers occupied the next : I thought these men all 
appeared cheerful ; at any rate, no evil presentiments were 



EEJOICIXGS OEATUITOUS FEASTING S. 491 

visible in tlieir countenances. After the emperor liacl passed, 
my interest diminished. I was absorbed bj reflection, and my 
mind was painfully diverted to the probable result of the 
impending contest, which would most likely plunge into a 
gory and crowded grave thousands of the gay and sparkling 
warriors who, full of the principle of life and activity, had that 
moment passed before mo. 

The crowds in the Champ de Mars ; the firing of the artil- 
lery ; the spirited bustle of the entire scene ; and the return 
of the same cortege after the constitution had been proclaimed, 
left me in a state of .absolute languor — every fresh idea sup- 
planting its predecessor in my mind ; and when I returned to 
my hotel, it required more than a single bottle of Chateau 
Margot to restore the serenity of my over-excited nerves. 

The rejoicings which followed the promulgation of the con- 
stitution were in a style of which I had no previous conception. 
I have already observed, and every person who has been much 
on the continent will bear me out in the remark, that no people 
are so very adroit at embellishment as the French. Our car- 
penters, paper-hangers, &c., know no more about Parisian em- 
bellishments than our plain cooks do of the hundred and 
twenty-six modes of dressing a fresh Qg^, whereof every 
French cuisinier is perfectly master. 

Many temporary stands had been erected in the Champs 
d'Elysee, wh:ence to toss out all species of provisions to the 
populace. Hams, turkeys, sausages, &c., cfec, were to be had 
in abundance by scrambling for them. Twenty fountains of 
wine were set playing into the jars, cups, and pails of all who 
chose to adventure getting near them.. A number of temporary 
theatres were constructed, and games started throughout the 
green. Quadrilles and waltzes were practised everywhere 
around: all species of music — singing — juggling — in fine, 
everything that could stamp the period of the emperor's de- 
parture on the minds of the people, were ordered to be put in 
requisition ; and a scene of eujoyment ensued which, notvvdth- 
standiug the bustle necessarily attendant, was conducted with 
the politeness and decorum of a drawing-room"; with much 
more, indeed, than prevails at most of our public assemblies. 



492 PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 

No pickpockets were liecarcl of; no disputes of any description 
arose ; tlie very lowest orders of the French canaille appear on 
such occasions cleanly dressed, and their very nature renders 
them polite and courteous to each other. They make way 
with respect for any Avoman, even from a duchess to a beggar- 
woman. 

Stretching across the whole of the Place Louis Quinze, v/as 
a transparent painting of Napoleon's return from Elba — the 
mimic ship being of equal dimensions with the real one. 
Napoleon appeared on the deck, and the entire effect was 
most impressive. 

The rejoicings concluded with a display of fireworks — a 
species of entertainment, by-the-by, wherein I never delighted. 
It commenced with a flight of five thousand rockets, of various 
colors, and was terminated by the ascent of a balloon loaded 
with every species of firework, which, bursting high in the air, 
illuminated with overpowering blaze the whole atmosphere. 
By midnight, all, like an " unsubstantial pageant," had faded, 
leaving the ill-starred emperor to pursue his route to partial 
victory, final defeat, and ruin.* 

One remark in conclusion : — it was really extraordinary to 

*I have read with pleasure many parts of "Napoleon's Second Reign," by 
Mr. Hobhonse. Though I do not coincide with that gentleman in all his 
views of the subject (differing from him in toto as to some)," I admit the jus- 
tice of a great portion of his observations, and consider the work, on the 
whole, as a very clever performance. In several matters of description and 
anecdote, he has anticipated me; and I i*eally think he- has treated them 
with as much accuracy, and in a much more comprehensive manner, than I 
should, or perhaps could have done. Mine in fact is but a sketch — his a 
history. In some matters of fact he appears to have been imperfectly 
informed : but they are not errors of a sufficiently important nature to in- 
volve any charge of general inaccuracy. I myself kept an ample diary of 
the events of the "Hundred Days" (of so much of them at least as I spent 
in Paris), and until the re-entry of Louis; and in fact subsequently, though 
less regularly. From these documents, I have extracted what I now pub- 
lish; but the whole may, perhaps, hereafter appear in its original shape. 

I can not buTexpress my regret that Mr. Hobhouse did not remain in 
Paris until after Napoleon's return from Belgium, when there was a fur 
wider and fairer field presented for the exercise of his pen. \ really con- 
ceive it will be a loss to literature if he does not recur to that period (ma- 
terials can not be wanting), take up his own work where he finished, and 
continue it until the evacuation of Paris by the allied forces. The events 
of that interval are richly worth recording; and it would fill up what is, 
as yet, nearly a blank in the history of Europe. 



IMPATIENCE OF THE PARISIANS. 493 

witness tlie political apatliy Avlierein tlie entire population, 
save the military, was bound. Scarce a single expression or' 
indication of party feeling escaped in any direction. All 
seemed bent on pleasure, and on jDleasure alone ; careless 
■wbetlier tlie opportunity for its indulgence were afforded tliem 
by Napoleon or Louis — by preparations for peace or war — by 
the establishment of despotism or liberty. They were, I sin- 
cerely believe, absolutely weary of politics, and inclined to 
view any suggestion of that nature with emotions of bitterness. 
At all times, indeed, the Parisians prefer pleasure to serious 
speculation ; and the tcisest king of France Avill ever be that one 
who contrives to keep his good citizens " constantly amused.''^ 



LAST DAYS OF THE IMPiEEIAL GOYEEXMENT. 

Rejoicinofs on Napoleori's Victory over Bluclier and Surprise of Lord Wpllinc'toB — Bulletin 
issuedat St. Cloud — Budget of News communicHted by a French Cockney — Author's 
Alarm's on Account of his Familj- — Proposes quirtin? Paris — Information of Hf-nry Theve- 
not : confirmed at Lafitte's — Napoleon's Return from Waterloo — The Author's Sources of 
Intelligence — His Visits to the Chamber of Deputies — Garat, IMinister of Justice at the 
Period of Louis' Decapitation — The Rousseau MSS. and their Peculiar Utility to the 
Author — Fouche's Treachery — Vacillating Plan to inform Napoleoii thereof, through 
Count Thibaudeau — Observations on the Vicissitudes and Political Extinction of Bona- 
parte. 

The emperor having left Paris to take command of the army 
in Belgium, the garrison left in that city was necessarily very 
inconsiderable. It was the universal belief, that the allies 
would be surprised by a simultaneous attack, and the event 
warranted this supposition. The result was — a double defeat 
of Bluclier ; the separation of the Prussian and British armies ; 
the retreat of Lord Wellington upon Brussels ; the march of 
Grouchy upon that city ; and the advance of Napoleon. The 
impatience of the Parisians for news may be easily conceived ; 
nor were they kept long in suspense. Meanwhile, there ran 
through the whole mass of society a suspicion that treachery 
was on foot, but nobody could guess in what shape it would 
explode. The assassination of Napoleon was certainly re- 
garded as a thing in contemplation, and the disaffection of 



491 LAST DAYS OF THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT. 

sundry general officers publicly discussed at tlie Palais Royal ; 
but no names Avere mentioned except Fouclie's. 

On Sunda}^ tlie IStli of June, at daybreak, I was roused by 
the noise of artillery. I rose and instantly sallied out to in- 
quire the cause ; nobody could at tlie moment inform me ; but 
it was soon announced that.it was public rejoicings on account 
of a great victory gained by Napoleon over the Prussians, 
commanded by Blucher, and the English, by the duke of 
Wellington : that the allies had been partly surprised, and 
were in rapid retreat, followed by the emperor and flanked by 
Grouchy ; that a lancer had arrived as courier, and had given 
many details — one of which was that our light dragoons, 
under Lord Anglesea, had been completely destroyed. 

I immediately determined to quit Paris for .the day. It 
was Sunday : everybody was afoot, the drums were beating in 
all directions, and it was impossible to say how the canaille 
might, in exultation at the victory, be disposed to act by 
the English in Paris. We, therefore, set out early and break- 
fasted at St. Cloud : the report of the victory had reached that 
village, but I perceived no indication of any great feeling on 
the subject. We adjourned to Bagatelle, in the very pretty 
gardens of which we sauntered about till dinner-time. 

This victory did not surprise me ; for when I saw the mag- 
nificent array of troops on the occasion of the promulgation, I 
had adopted the unmilitary idea that they must he invincible. 
As yet we had heard no certain particulars : about eleven 
o'clock, however, printed bulletins were liberally distributed, 
announcing an unexpected attack on the Prussian and English 
armies v/ith the purpose of dividing them, which purpose was 
stated to be fully accomplished ; the duke of Brunswick killed ; 
the prince of Orange wounded ; two Scotch regiments broken 
and sabred ; Lord Wellington in full retreat ; Blacher's army 
absolutely ruined ; and the emperor in full march for Brussels, 
where the Belgian army would join the French, and march 
unitedly for Berlin. The da}^ was rather drizzling : we took 
shelter in the grotto, and were there joined by some Parisian 
shopkeeper and his family, who had come out from the capital 
for their recreation. This man told us a hundred incidents, 



A FEENCH cockney's BUDGET OF XEWS. -^95 

whicli were circulated in Paris with relation to tlie Lattle. 
Among other things, it was said, that if the emperor's generals 
did their duty, the campaign miglit be already considered over, 
since every man in France and Belgium would rise in favor of 
the emperor. He told us news had arrived, that the Austrians 
were to be neutral, and that the Russians durst advance no 
further ; that the king of Prussia would be dethroned, and that 
it was generally believed. Lord Wellington would either be 
dead or in the castle of Vincennes by Wednesday morning ! 
This budget of intelligence our informant communicated him- 
self in a very neutral way, and without betraying the slightest 
symptom of either gratification or the reverse ; and as it was 
impossible to doubt the main point (the defeat), I really began 
to think all was lost, and that it was high time to consider how 
we should get out of France forthwith ; more particularly as 
the emperor's absence from Paris would, by leaving it at the 
mercy of the populace, render that city no longer a secure 
residence for the subjects of a hostile kingdom. How singular 
was the fact, that, at the very moment I was receiving this 
news — at the very instant when I conceived Napoleon again 
the conqueror of the world, and the rapidity of his success as 
only supplementary to the rapidity of his previous return, and 
a prelude to fresh achievements ; that bloody and decisive 
conflict w^-as actually at its height, which had been decreed by 
Providence to terminate ISTapoleon's political existence ! What 
an embarrassing problem to the mind of a casuist must a specu- 
lation be, as to the probable results, at this day, of a different 
dispensation ! 

Our minds were now made up to quit Paris on the following 
^Thursday; and, as the securest course, to get down to St. 
Maloes, and thence to Jersey, or some of the adjacent islands : 
and without mentioning our intention, I determined to make 
every preparation connected with the use of the saiif cGnduit 
wdiich I had procured on my first arrival in Paris. But fate 
decreed it otherwise. Napoleon's destiny had been meantime 
decided, and my flight became unnecessary. 

On returning to Paris, we found everything quiet. On that 
very Sunday night, my servant, the Henry Thevenot, told me 



496 LAST DAYS OF THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT. 

that lie had heard the French had got entangled in a forest, 
and met a repulse. He said he had heen told this at a public 
house in Hue Mont Blanc. 

I feared the man : I suspected him to be on the espionnage 
establishment, and therefore told him to say no more to me 
about the war, and that I wished much to be in England. 

About nine o'clock on Thursday morning, as soon as I rose, 
Thevenot again informed me, with a countenance which gave 
no indication of his own sentiments, that the French were 
totally defeated, that the emperor had returned to Paris, and 
that the English were in full march to the capital. 

I always dreaded lest the language of my servant might in 
some way implicate me, and I now chid him for telling me so 
great a falsehood. 

" It is true," returned he. 

Still I could not believe it ; and I gave him notice, on the 
spot, to quit my service. He received this intimation with 
much seeming indifference, and his whole deportment im- 
pressed me with suspicion. I went immediately, therefore, 
to Messrs. Lahtte, my bankers, and the first person I saw was 
my friend, Mr. Phillips, very busily employed . at his. desk in 
the outside room. 

" Do you know, Phillips," said I, " that I have been obliged 
to turn off my servant for spreading a report that the French 
are beaten. and the emperor returned?" 

Phillips, without withdrawing his eyes from what he was 
engaged on, calmly and concisely replied, " It is true enough." 

" Impossible !" exclaimed I. 

" Quite possible," returned this man of few words. 

"Where is Napoleon?" said I. 

" In the Palais de Bourbon Elysee," said he. 

I saw it was vain to expect further communication from Mr. 
Phillips, and I went into an inner chamber to Mr. Clement, 
who seemed, however, more taciturn than the other. 

Being most anxious to learn all the facts, I proceeded to the 
Palais d'Elysee, my skepticism having meanwhile undergone 
great diminution from seeing an immense number of splendid 
equipages darting through the streets, filled with full-dressed 



NAPOLEON AFTEK HIS DEFEAT AT WATEELOO. 497 

men, plentifully adorned with stars and orders. Wlien I got 
to the palace, I found the court full of carriages, and a large 
body of the national guard under arms : yet I could scarcely 
believe my eyes; but I soon learned' the principal fact from a 
hundred mouths and with a thousand different details : my 
informants agreeing only on one point — namely, that the army 
was defeated hy treachery , and that the emperor had returned 
to Paris in quest of new materiel. Groups and crowds were 
collecting everywhere ; and confusion reigned triumphant. 

Being somewhat rudely driven out of the courtyard, I now 
went round to the Champs d'Elysee, at the rear of the palace. 
Sentinels, belonging to Napoleon's guard, were, by this time, 
posted outside the long terrace that skirts the garden. They 
would permit no person to approach close ; but I was near 
enough to discern Napoleon walking deliberately backward 
and forward on that terrace, in easy conversation with two 
persons whom I conceived to be his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, 
and Count Bertrand — and I afterward heard that I was right. 
The emperor wore a short blue coat and a small three-cocked 
hat, and held his hands behind his back seemingly in a most 
tranquil mood. Nobody could in fact suppose he was in any 
agitation whatever, and the cardinal appeared much more 
earnest in the conversation than himself. I stood there about 
fifteen minutes when the sentries ordered us off; and as I 
obeyed, I saw Napoleon walk up toward the palace. 

I never saw the emperor of the French after that day, which 
was, in fact, the last of his reign. It ought to have been the 
last day of his existence, or the first of some new series of 
achievements : but fate had crushed the man, and he could 
rouse himself no more. Though I think he could count but 
scantily on the fidelity of the national guards, yet he was in 
possession of Mont-martre, and, as the event proved, another 
and a very powerful army might soon have been gathered 
about him. Perhaps, too, had Bonaparte rallied in good earn- 
est, he might have succeeded in Avorking even on the very pride 
of his former subjects to free the soil of the grande nation from 
foreign invasion. 

Madame Le Jeune, the mistress of the hotel wherein we 



498 LAST DATS OF THE IMPEEIAL GOVERNMENT. 

resided, was sister to Greneral Le Jeiine, the admirable painter 
wlio executed those noble pieces of the battles of Jena and 
Austerlitz, which had been in the outside room at the gallery 
of the Tuileries. I am no judge of painting, but I think every- 
thing he did (and his pieces were numerous) possessed great 
effect. Through him, until the siege terminated by the sur- 
render of Paris, we learned all that was going on among the 
French ; and through Dr. Marshall and Col. Macirone I daily 
became acquainted with the objects of the English, as I verily 
believe those two gentlemen were at the same time in corre- 
spondence with both the British and French authorities. 

After Napoleon had been a few days making faint and fruit- 
less endeavors to induce the deputies to grant him the 7nateriel 
and aid him in a new armament, their coldness to himself indi- 
vidually became too obvious to be misconstrued : fortune had, 
in fact, forsaken Napoleon, and friends too often follow fortune ; 
and it soon became notorious that Fouclie had every disposition 
to seal his master's destruction. The emperor had, however, 
still many true and faithful friends — many ardent partisans 
on whose fidelity he might rely. He had an army which could 
not be estranged, which no misfortune could divert from him. 
But his enemies (including the timid and the neutral among 
the deputies) appeared, to me decidedly to outnumber those 
who would have gone Jar in insuring his reinstatement. Tran- 
quillity seemed to be the general wish, and the re-equipment 
of Napoleon would have rendered it unattainable. 

Nevertheless., the deputies proceeded calmly on their busi- 
ness, and events every day assumed a more extraordinary 
appearance. The interval between the emperor's return from 
"Waterloo and his final abdication — between his departure for 
Malmaison and the siege of Paris — was of the most interesting 
and important nature ; and so great was my curiosity to be 
aware of passing events, that I am conscious I went much 
further lengths than prudence would have warranted. 

During the debates in the deputies after Napoleon's return, 
I was almost daily present. I met a gentleman who procured 
me a free admission, and through whom I became acquainted, 
by name with most, and personally with many, of the most 



GARAT THE ROUSSEAU MSS. 499 

celebrated characters, not only of the current time, but also 
who had flourished during the different stages of the revolution. 
I was particularly made known to Garat, who had been minis- 
ter of justice at the time Louis XVI. 'vvas beheaded , and had 
read to him his sentence and conducted him to the scaffold. 
Although he had not voted for the king's death, he durst not 
refuse to execute his official functions ; his attendance, there- 
fore, could not be considered as voluntary. He was at this 
time a member of the deputies. His person would well answer 
the idea of a small, slight, sharp-looking, lame tailor ; but his 
conversation was acute, rational, and temperate. He regarded 
Napoleon as lost beyond all redemption ; nor did he express 
any great regret, seeming to me a man of much mental reser- 
vation. I suspect he had been too much of a genuine republi- 
can, and of too democratic and liberal a policy, ever to have 
been any great admirer even of the most splendid of impera- 
tors. I think he was sent out of Paris on the king's restoration. 

My friend having introduced me to the librarian of the 
chamber of deputies, I was suffered to sit in the anteroom, or 
library, whenever I chose, and had, consequently a full oppor- 
tunity of seeing the ingress and egress of the deputies, who 
frequently formed small groups in the anteroom, and entered 
into earnest, although brief conferences. My ready access to 
the gallery of the house itself enabled me likewise to know the 
successive objects of their anxious solicitude. 

The librarian was particularly obliging, and suffered me to 
see and examine many of the most curious old documents. 
But the original manuscript of Rovisseau's " Confessions," and 
of his " Eloisa," produced me a real treat. His writing is as 
legible as print : the " Eloisa," a work of mere fancy, without 
one obliteration ; while the " Confessions," which the author 
put forth as matter of fact, are, oddly enough, full of alterations 
in every page. 

When I wished for an hour of close observation, I used to 
draAv my chair to a window, get Rousseau into my hand, and, 
while apparently riveted on his '' Confessions," watch from 
the corner of my eye the earnest gesticulation and ever-varying 
countenances of some agitated group of deputies : many of 



500 LAST DATS OF THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT. 

them, as tliey passed by, cast a glance on the object of my 
attention, of which I took care that they should always have a 
complete view. 

Observing one day a very unusual degree of excitement 
among the members in the chamber, and perceiving the sally 
of the groups into the library to be more frequent and earnest 
than ordinary, I conceived that something very mysterious was 
in agitation. I mentioned my suspicions to a well-informed 
friend : he nodded assent, but was too wise or too timorous to 
give any opinion on so ticklish a subject. I well knew that 
Napoleon had been betrayed, because I had learned from an 
authentic source that secret despatches had been actually sent 
by Fouche to the allies, and that the embassy to the emperor 
of Russia, from M. Lafitte, &c., had been some- hours antici- 
pated and counteracted by the chief commissioner of govern- 
ment. 

It was clear to everybody that Napoleon had lost his forti- 
tude : in fact, to judge by his conduct, he seemed so feeble and 
irresolute, that he had ceased to be formidable ; and it occurred 
to me that some sudden and strong step was in the contempla- 
tion of his true friends, to raise his energies once more, and 
stimulate him to resistance. I was led to think so particularly 
by hearing some of his warmest partisans publicly declare that, 
if he had not lost all feeling for both himself and France, he 
should take the alternative of either reigning again or dying 
in the centre of his still-devoted army. 

The next day confirmed my surmises. I discovered that a 
letter had been written without signature, addressed to Count 
Thibaudeau, but not yet sent, disclosing to him, in detail and 
with proofs, the treachery of Fouche, &;c., and advising the 
emperor instantly to arrest the traitors, unfold the treason to 
the chambers — then put himself at the head of his guards, re- 
assemble the army at Vilette, and, before the allies could unite, 
make one effort more to save France from subjugation. This 
was, I heard, the purport of the letter ; and I also learned the 
mode and hour determined on to carry it to Count Thibaudeau. 
It was to be slipped into the letter-box in the ante-room of the 
chamber, which was used, as I have already mentioned, as a 



FOTJCHe's TREACHER^'. 501 

libraiy. I was determined to ascertain the fact ; and, seated 
in one of tlie windows, turning over tlie leaves and copying 
passages out of my favorite manuscripts, I could see plainly 
where the letter-box was placed, and j^ept it constantly in my 
eye. The crowd was always considerable ; groups were con- 
versing ; notes and letters were every moment put into the box 
for delivery ; but I did not see the person who had been de- 
scribed to me as about to give Count Thibaudeau the informa- 
tion. At length, however, I saw him warily approach the box. 
He was obviously agitated — so much so, indeed, that far from 
avoiding, his palpable timidity would have excited observation. 
He had the note in liis hand : he looked around him, put his 
hand toward the box, withdrew it, changed color, made a sec- 
ond effort — and his resolution again faltering, walked away 
without effecting his purpose. I afterward learned that the 
letter had been destroyed, and that Count Thibaudeau received 
no intimation till too late. 

This was an incident fraught with portentous results. Had 
that note been dropped as intended, into the box, the fate of 
Europe might have remained long undecided ; Fouche, the 
most eminent of traitors, would surely have met his due reward ; 
Bonaparte would have put himself at the head of the army 
assembling at Yilette — numerous, enthusiastic, and desperate. 
Neither the Austrian nor the Russian armies were within reach 
of Paris ; while that of the French would, I believe, in point 
of numbers, have exceeded the English and Prussian united 
force : and it is more than probable that the most extermina- 
ting battle which ever took place between two great armies 
would have been fought next day in the suburbs, or perhaps 
in the Boulevards, of Paris. 

Very different indeed were the consequences of that suppres- 
sion. The evil genius of Napoleon pressed down the balance ; 
and instead of any chance of remounting his throne, he for- 
feited both his lof^y cliaractcr and his life ; and Fouche, dread- 
ing the risk of detection, devised a plan to get the emperor 
clear out of France, and put him at least into the power of the 
British government. 

This last occurrence marked finally the destiny of Napoleon. 



502 DETENTION AT VILETTE. 

Fortune liad not orAj forsaken, but she mocked liim ! She tossed 
about, and played with, before she destroyed her victim — one 
moment giving him hopes which only rendered despair more 
terrible the next. After what I saw of his downfall, no public 
event, no revolution, can ever excite in my mind one moment 
of surprise. I have seen, and deeply feel, that we are daily 
deceived in our views of everything and everybody. 

Bonaparte's last days of power were certainly full of tre- 
mendous vicissitudes : on one elated by a great victory — on 
the next overwhelmed by a fatal overthrow. Hurled from a 
lofty throne into the deepest profundity of misfortune ; bereft 
of his wife and only child ; persecuted by his enemies ; aban- 
doned by his friends ; betrayed by his ministers ; humbled, 
depressed, paralyzed — his proud heart died within him ; his 
great spirit was quenched ; and, after a grievous struggle, de- 
spair became his conqueror — and Napoleon Bonaparte degen- 
erated into an ordinary mortal ! 



DETENTION AT VILETTE. 

Negotiation between the Provisional Government of Paris and the Allies — Colonel Maci- 
rone's Mission — Thu Author crosses the Barrier of the French Army, misses the Colonel, 
and is detained on Suspicion — Led before Marshal Davoust, Prince d'Eckmnhl, and Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the Forces at Vilette — The Marshal's Hauahty Demeanor, and the 
Imprecations of the Soldiery — A Friend in Need ; or, one Good Turn deserves Another 
— Remarks of a French Officer on the Battle of Waterloo — Account of the Physical and 
Moral Strength and Disposition of the Army at Vilette — Return of the Parlemeiitaires — 
Awkward Mistake of one of the Sentries — Liberation of the Author — Marshal Davoust's 
Expressions to the Negotiators. 

In the month of July, 1815, there was a frequent intercourse 
of parlemeni aires between the commissioners of the French 
government and the allies. Davoust, prince d'Eckmuhl, com- 
manded the French army assembled at Vilette and about the 
canal d'Ourk, a neighborhood where many ihousand Russians 
had fallen in the battle of the preceding summer. I had the 
greatest anxiety to see the French army ; and Colonel Maci- 
rone being sent out with one of Fouche's despatches to the 
duke of Wellington, I felt no apprehension, being duly armed 



AN AREEST MARSHAL DAYOTJST. 603 

witli my savf conduit^ and tliouglit I would take tliat opportu- 
nity of passing the Barriere de E-oule, and strolling abont un- 
til Macirone's carriage should come up. It, however, by some 
mischance, drove rapidly by me, and. I was consec[uently left 
in rather an awkward situation. 

I did not remain long in suspense, being stopped by two 
officers, who questioned me somewhat tartly as to my presump- 
tion in passing the sentries, " who," said they, *' must have 
mistaken you for one of the commissaries' attendants." I pro- 
duced my passport, which stood me in no further advantage 
than to insure a very civil arrest. I was directly taken to the 
quarters of Marshal Davoust, who was at the time breakfast- 
ing on grapes and bread in a very good hotel by the side of 
the canal. He shoAved at first a sort of austere indiiference 
that was extremely disagreeable to me ; but on my telling him 
who I was, and everything relating to the transaction, the 
manifestation of my candor struck him so forcibly, that he said 
I was at liberty to walk about, but not to repass the lines till 
the return of the parlementaires, and further inquiry made 
about me. I was not altogether at my ease : the prince was 
now very polite, but I knew nobody, and was undoubtedly a 
suspicious person. However, I was civilly treated by the offi- 
cers who met me, and on the contrary received many half- 
English curses from several soldiers, who, I suppose, had been 
prisoners in England. I was extremely hungry, and much 
fatigued, and kept on the bank of the canal, as completely out 
of the way of the military as I could. 

I was at length thus accosted in my own language by an 
elderly officer : — 

" Sir," said he, " I think I have seen you in England." 

" I have not the honor to recollect having met you, sir," re- 
plied I. 

" I shall not readily forget it," rejoined the French officer. 
" Do you remember being, about two years since, in the town 
of Odiham ?" 

" Very well," said I. 

"You recollect some French officers who were prisoners 
there?" 



504: ■ DETENTION AT YILETTE. 

These Avords at once broiiglit the circumstance to my mind, 
and I answered, " I do now recollect seeing you, perfectly." 

" Yes," said my interlocutor, " I was one of the three for- 
eigners who were pelted with mud by the garpo?is in the streets 
of Odiham : and do you remember striking one of the garcons 
who followed us, for their conduct ?" 

" I do not forget it." 

" Come with me, sir," pursued he, " and we'll talk it over in 
another place." 

The fact had been as he represented. A few French offi- 
cers, prisoners at Odiham, were sometimes roughly treated by 
the mob. Passing by chance one day with Lady Barrington 
through the streets of that town, I saw a great number of boys 
following, hooting, and hissing the French ofjEicers. I struck 
two or three of these idle dogs wdth my cane', and rapped at 
the constable's door, who immediately came out and put them 
to flight — interfering, however, rather reluctantly on the part 

of what he called the " d d Frencli foreigners .'" I expressed 

and felt great indignation. The officers thanked me warmly, 
and I believe were shortly after removed to Oswestry. 

My friend told me that his two comrades at Odiham were 
killed — the one at Waterloo, and the other by a wagon pas- 
sing over him at Charleroi, on the 16th of June ; and that 
scarcely an officer who had been prisoner at his first depot at 
Oswestry had survived the last engagements. He gave me, in 
his room at Vilette, wine, bread, and grapes, with dried sau- 
sages well seasoned with garlic, and a glass of eau-de-vie. I 
was highly pleased at this rencontre. My companion was a 
most intelligent person, and communicative to the utmost ex- 
tent of my curiosity. His narrative of many of the events of 
the battles of the 16th and IStli ultimo was most interesting, 
and carried with it every mark of candor. The minutes rolled 
away speedily in his company, and seemed to me indeed far 
too fleeting. He had not been wounded, though in the heat 
of both engagements. He attributed the loss of the battle to 
three causes : the wanton expenditure of the cavalry ; the 
negligent uncovering of the right wing by Grouchy ; and the 
impetuosity of Napoleon, in ordering the last attack by the 



THE FEEXCH TROOPS AFTER THE BATTLE. 505 

old guard, wliicli lie sliould have postponed till next day. 
He said he liad no doubt that the Belgian troops T^ould all 
have left the field before morning. He had been engaged on 
the left, and did not see the Prussian' attack, but said that it 
had the effect of consolidating all the different corps of the 
French army. 

He told me that Napoleon was forced off the field by the 
irresistible crowds which the advance of the English cavalry 
had driven into disorder, while there was not a possibility of 
rallying a single squadron of their own. His episodes re- 
specting the occurrences of that day were most affecting, and 
I believe true. 

In this agreeable society my spirits mounted again, and I 
soon acquired courage sufficient to express my great anxiety 
to see the army, adding that I durst not go alone. My friend 
immediately took me under his arm, and walked with me 
through the whole lines, introducing me to several of his com- 
rades, and acting throughout in the kindest and most gentle- 
manly manner. This was precisely the opportunity I had so 
long wished for of viewing the French troops, which were then 
full of impetuosity and confidence, and eager for battle. Nei- 
ther the Russians nor Austrians had reached Paris, and it was 
supposed Davoust would anticipate the attack of the other 
allies, who only waited for the junction of these powers and 
their heavy artillery to recommence operations. The scene 
was so new to me, so impressive, and so important, that it v/as 
only on my return home my mind got steady enough to organ- 
ize its ideas, and permit me to take coherent notes of what I 
had witnessed. 

' The battle of Waterloo was understood to have dispersed 
so entirely the French army — that powerful and glorious dis- 
play of heroes and of arms which a few days previously had 
passed before my eyes — that scarcely ten men (except G-rou- 
chy's division) returned in one body to Paris ; and those who 
did return were in such a state of wretchedness and depression, 
that I took for granted the spirit of the French army had been 
extmg^dshed — their battalions never to be rallied — their cour- 
age thoroughly cooled ! I considered that the assembly at 

22 



506 DETENTION AT YILETTE. 

Vilette could not be numerous, and was more calculated to 
make a show for better terms than to resist the conquerors. 
How great, then, must have been my astonisliment when the 
evening parade turned out, as the officers informed me, above 
sixty-jive thousand infantry, which, with artillery and cavalry, 
reached together near eighty thousand men ! I thought sev- 
eral of the privates had drunk rather too much : but whether 
sober or not, they seemed to be all in a state of wild, enthusi- 
astic excitement — little removed from insubordination, but 
directly tending to hostility and battle. Whole companies 
cried aloud, as the superior officers passed by them : " Mon 
general — a Vattaque ! — Vennemi ! Vennemi ! — alJons ! aUons .'" 
Others shouted : ^^ Nous sommes trains ! traldson ! traliison ! — 
a la hataiile I a la hata.ille /" Crowds of them, as if by instinct 
or for pastime, would rush voluntarily together, and in a mo- 
ment form, a long column — then disperse and execute some 
other manoeuvre ; while others, dispersed in groups, sang in 
loud chorus sundry war-songs, wherein les Trusses andZf?* 
Anglais v/ere the general theme. 

I had no conception how it was possible that, in a few days 
after such a total dispersion of the French army, another 
could be so rapidly collected, and which, though somewhat 
less numerous, the officer told me evinced double the enthusi- 
asm of those who had formed the defeated corps. They had 
now it is true the stimulus of that defeat to urge them desper- 
ately on to retrieve that military glory which had been so 
awfully obscured ; their artillery was most abundant ; and we 
must never forget that the French soldier is always better in- 
formed, and possessed of more morale than our own. In truth, 
I really do believe there was scarcely a man in that army at 
Vilette who would willingly have quitted the field of battle 
alive, unless victorious. 

Though their tumultuous excitement certainly at this time 
bore the appearance of insubordination, my conductor assured 
me, I was mistaken in forming such a judgment ; he admitted 
that they durst not check that exuberant zeal on the instant ; 
but added, that Avhen the period arrived to form them for bat- 
tle, not a voice could be heard, not a limb move, till the attack 



THE OLD GUARD. 507 

commenced, except hj order of their leaders ; and that if the . 
traitors in Paris suffered them once more to try their fortune, 
he did- not think there was an individual in that army who 
entertained a doubt of the result. 

In the production of this confidence, party spirit doubtless 
was mixed up : but no impartial observer could deny, that if 
the troops at Vilette had been heartily joined by forty thou- 
sand of the national guards and country volunteers then with- 
in the walls of Paris, the consequence would have been ex- 
tremely problematical. 

The day passed on, and I still strolled about ivith my polite 
conductor, whom I b»egged to remain with me. He was not 
an officer of high rank : I believe a captain of the 81st in- 
fantry — tall, very thin, gentlemanly, and had seen long ser- 
vice. 

From this crowd of infuriated soldiers, he led me farther to 
the left, whither a part of the old guard, who had been I be- 
lieve quartered at Mont-martre, had for some cause or other 
been that evening removed. I had, as the reader will per- 
haps recollect, a previous opportunity of admiring that unri- 
valled body of veteran warriors ; and their appearance this 
evening interested me beyond measure. Every man looked 
like an Ajax, exhibiting a firmness of step and of gesture at 
once formidable and even graceful. At the same time, I 
fancied that there was a cast of melancholy over their bronzed 
countenances. When I compare what I that day witnessed 
to the boyish, ordinary-looking corps now generally composing 
the guardians of that once military nation, I can scarcely 
avoid sighing while I exclaim tempora mutantur ! 

I grew, however, at length impatient ; evening was closing, 
and, if detained, I must I suppose have bivouacked. To be 
sure, the weather was so fine that it would have been of no 
great consequence : still my situation was disagreeable, and 
the more so, as my family, being quite ignorant of it, must 
necessarily feel uneasy. I was therefore becoming silent and 
abstracted (and my friend had no kind of interest to get me 
released), when two carriages appeared driving toward the 
barrier where we stood. A shot was fired by the advanced 



608 PEOJECTED ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON. 

sentry at one of them, wliicli immediately stopped. A party 
was sent out, and the carriage entered ; there were two gen- 
tlemen in it, one of whom had received the ball, I believe in 
his shoulder. A surgeon instantly attended, and they pro- 
ceeded within the lines. They proved to be tM^o of the parle- 
mcnt aires who had gone oufwith despatches. The wound was 
not mortal ; and its infliction arose from a mistaken construc- 
tion, on the part of the sentinel, of his orders. 

The other carriage (in Avhicli was Colonel Macirone) drove 
on without stopping at the headquarters of Davoust. My 
kind companion said he would now go and try to get me dis- 
missed : he did so, and procured an order for my departure, 
on signing my name, address, and occupation, and the name 
of some person who knew me in Paris. I. mentioned Mr. 
Phillips, of Lafitte's, and was then suffered to depart. It will 
be imagined that I was not dilatory in walking home, where, 
of course, I was received as a lost sheep — no member of my 
family having the slightest idea whither I had gone. 

The officer, as he accompanied me to the barrier, described 
to me the interview between the parlementaires and Davoust. 
They had, it seems, made progress in the negotiation, very 
much against the marshal's inclinations. He was confident 
of victory, and expressed himself, with great warmth, in the 
following emphatic words : " Begone ! and tell your employer, 
Fouche, that the prince of Eckmuhl will defend Paris till its 
flames set this handkerchief on fire !" waving one as he spoke. 



PROJECTED ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON. 

Attack on the Bridge of Chnrenton hy the Rupsinns — Fouche's Arran^'em'^rits for the De- 
ff ncp of Pari? — Bimnparte's Retireinent to Malmai^on — His Want of Moi-al Coui'age — 
Coinp-.irison bftwepn Napoleon and Frederick the Great — Extraordinary Repolution of 
the Ex-Emperor to repair to London — Preparations for his Undertaking the Journey as 
Secretiiry to Dr. Marshall — The Scheme abandoned from Dread of Treacheiy on the 
road to the Const — Termination of the Author's Intercourse with Dr. Marshall and the 
Cause thereof — Remuneration of Col. Macirone by the Arch-Traitor, Fouche. 

It was the received opinion that the allies would form a 
blockade rather than venture an assault on Paris. The nu- 
merical strength and morale of the French army at Yilette the 



fotjche's aerangements. 509 

reader had already seen. The English army was within view . 
of, and occupied St. Denis; the Prussians were on the side of 
Sevres ; and the Russians were expected in the direction of 
Charenton, along the Marne. That' Paris might have heen 
taken by storm is possible ; but if the French army had been 
augmented by one half of the national guard, the effort would 
surely have been most sanguinary, and the result most doubt- 
ful. Had the streets been intersected, mines sunk, the bridges 
broken down, and the populace armed as well as circumstances 
would permit (the heights being at the same time duly defend- 
ed), though I am not a military man, and therefore very liable 
to error on such a subject, I have little doubt, instead of mere 
negotiation, it would have cost the allies more than one half 
of their forces before they had arrived in the centre of the 
French metropolis. The defence of Saragossa by Palafox 
(though- but a chieftain of guerilla) proved the possibility of 
defending an open town against a valorous enemy. 

I was breakfasting in Dr. Marshall's garden when we heard 
a heavy firing commence : it proceeded from Charenton, about 
three miles from Paris, where the Russian advanced guard had 
attacked the bridge, which had not been broken up, although 
it was one of the leading avenues to the castle of Vincennes. 
-Fouche indeed had contrived to weaken this post effectu- 
ally, so that the defence there could not be long protracted; 
and he had also ordered ten thousand stand of arms to be taken 
secretly out of Paris and lodged in the castle of Vincennes, to 
prevent the Parisians from arming. 

The discharges continuing in occasional volleys, like a sort 
of running fire, I was most anxious to go to some spot which 
' would command that part of the country ; but the doctor dis- 
suaded me, saying it could not be a severe or lengthened strug- 
gle, as Fouche had taken care of that matter. I led him grad- 
ually into conversation on the business, and he made known 
to me though equivocally, much more than I had ever suspected. 
Every despatch, every negotiation, every step which it was 
supposed by such among the French as had their country's 
honor and character at heart, might operate to prevent the 
allies from approaching Paris after the second abdication, had 



610 PKOJECTED ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON. 

been either accompanied by counter applications, or defeated 
by secret instructions from Foucbe. 

While mock negotiations were thus carrying on at a dis- 
tance, and before the English army had reached St. Denis, 
Bonaparte was already at Malmaison. It had become quite 
clear that he was a lost man ; and this most celebrated of all 
soldiers on record, proved by his conduct, at that crisis, the 
distinction between animal and mental courffge ; the first is an 
instinctive quality, enjoyed by us in common with many of 
the brute creation ; the latter is the attribute of man alone. 
The first, Napoleon eminently possessed ; in the latter he was 
certainly defective. Frederick the Great, in mental courage 
was altogether superior to Napoleon. He could fight and fly, 
and rally, and fight again ; his spirit never gave in ; his perse- 
verance never flagged : he seemed, in fact, insusceptible of 
despondency, and was even greater in defeat than in victory: 
he never quitted his army while a troop could be rallied; and 
the seven years' war proved that the king of Prussia was 
equally illustrious, whether fugitive or conqueror. 

Napoleon reversed those qualities. No warrior that history 
records ever was so great wldle successful : his victories were 
followed up with the rapidity of lightning ; in overwhelming an 
army, he in fact often subdued a kingdom, and -profited more 
by each triumph than any general that had preceded him. 
But he could not stand up under defeat ! 

The several plans for Napoleon's escape, I heard as they 
were successively formed : such of them as had an appearance 
of plausibility, Fouche found means to counteract. It would 
not be amusing to relate the various devices which were sug- 
gested for this purpose. Napoleon was meanwhile almost pas- 
sive and wrapped in apathy. He clung to existence with even 
a meali tenacity ; and it is diflicult to imagine but that his in- 
tellect must have suffered before he was led to endure a life 
of ignominious exile. 

At Dr. Marshall's hotel one morning, I remarked his travel- 
ling carriage as if put in preparation for a journey, having 
candles in the lamps, &c. A smith had been examining it, 
and the servants were all in motion. I suspected some move- 



DETAILS DISCLOSED BY DK. MARSHALL. 511 

ment of consequence, but could not surmise what. The doctor ^ 
did not appear to think that I had observed these preparations. 

On a sudden, while walking in the garden, I turned short 
on him. 

" Doctor," said I, at a venture, " you are going on an impor- 
tant journey to-night." 

*' How do you know V said he, throvN^n off his guard by the 
abruptness of my remark. 

" Well !" continued I, smiling, " I wish you well out of it .'" 

" Out of icliat V exclaimed he, recovering his self-possession 
and sounding me in his turn. 

'' Oh, no matter, no matter," said I, with a significant nod, 
as if I was already acquainted with his proceedings. 

This bait took in some degree ; and after a good deal of 
fencing (knowing that he could fully depend on my secrecy), 
the doctor led me into his study, where he said he would com- 
municate to a me very interesting and important matter. He 
then unlocked his desk, and produced an especial passport for 
himself and his secretary to Havre de Grace, thence to embark 
for England ; and he showed me a very large and also a smal- 
ler bag of gold, which he was about to take with him. 

He proceeded- to inform me, that it was determined ISTapo- 
leon should go to England ; that he had himself agreed to it ; 
and that he was to travel in Dr. Marshall's carriage, as his 
secretary, under the above-mentioned passport. It was ar- 
ranged that, at twelve o'clock that night, the emperor with 
the queen of Holland were to be at Marshall's house, and to 
set off thence immediately ; that on arriving in England he 
was forthwith to repair to London, preceded by a letter to the 
prince regent, stating that he threw himself on the protection 
and generosity of the British nation and required permission 
to reside therein as a private individual. 

The thing seemed to me too romantic to be serious ; and the 
doctor could not avoid perceiving my incredulity. He how- 
ever enjoined me to secresy,. Avhich by-the-by was unneces- 
sary ; I mentioned the circumstance, and should have men- 
tioned it, only to one member of my family, whom I knew to 
be as cautious as myself. But I determined to ascertain the 



512 PROJECTED ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON. 

fact ; and before twelve o'clock at niglit repaired to tlie Rue 
Pigale, and stood np midenicatli a door somewhat farther on 
the opposite side of the street to Dr. Marshall's house. 

A strong light shone through the curtains of the first floor 
windows, and lights were also moving about in the upper story. 
The court meantime was quite dark, and the indications alto- 
gether bespoke that something extraordinary was going for- 
ward in the house. Every moment I expected to see Napo- 
leon come to the gate. He came not ; but about half after 
twelve, an elderly officer buttoned up in a blue surtout rode up 
to i\iQ porte-cochere, Avhicli, on his ringing, was instantly opened. 
He w^ent in, and after remaining about twenty minutes, came 
out on horseback as before, and went down the street. I 
thought he might have been a precursor, and still kept my 
ground until, some time after, the light in the first floor was ex- 
tinguished ; and thence inferring what subsequently proved to 
be the real state of the case, I returned homeward disappointed. 

Next day Dr Marshall told me that Napoleon had been dis- 
suaded from venturing to Havre de Grace — he believed by 
the queen of Holland. Some idea had occurred to either him 
or her that he might not be fairly dealt with on" -the road. I 
own the same suspicion had struck me Avhen I first heard of 
the plot, though I was far from implicating the doctor in any 
proceeding of a decidedly treacherous nature. The incident 
was, however, in all its bearings, an extraordinary one. 

My intimacy with Dr. Marshall at length ceased, and in a 
manner very disagreeable. I liked the man, and I do not 
wish to hurt his feelings ; but certain mysterious imputations 
thrown out by his lady terminated our connection. 

A person with whom I was extremely intimate happened to 
be in my drawing-room one day when Mrs. Marshall called. 
I observed nothing of a particular character, except that Mrs. 
Marshall went suddenly away ; and as I handed her into her 
carriage, she said : " You promised to dine with us to-morrow, 
and I requested you to bring any friend you liked ; but do not 
let it be tliat fellow I have just seen — I have taken a great 
dislike to his countenance !" No further observation was made, 
and the lady departed. 



A FEMALE EI'SE COL. MACIROXE AND FOrCHE. 513 

On tlie next morning I received a note from Mrs. Marshall, 
stating that she had reason to know some malicious person had 
represented me as being acquainted with certain affairs very 
material for the government to undei:stand — and as having 
papers in my possession which might be required from me by 
the minister Fouche ; advising me therefore to leave town for 
a while, sooner than be troubled respecting business so disa- 
greeable ; adding that, in the meantime. Colonel Macirone 
would endeavor to find out the facts, and apprize me of themx. 

I never was more surprised in my life than at the receipt of 
this letter. I had never meddled at all in French politics, 
save to hear and see all I could, and say nothing. I neither 
held nor had held any political paper whatever; and I there- 
fore immediately went to Sir Charles Stuart, our embassador, 
made my complaints, and requested his excellency's personal 
interference. To my surprise, Sir Charles in reply asked me 
how I could chance to know such a person as Macirone. I did 
not feel pleased at this, and answered somewhat tartly : " Be- 
cause both the English and French governments, and his ex- 
cellency to boot, had not only intercourse with, but had em- 
ployed Macirone in both Italy and Paris ; and that I knew 
him to be at that moment in communication with persons of 
the highest respectability in both countries." 

Sir Charles then wrote a note to Fouche, informing him who 
I was, &c., &c., and I finally discovered it was all a scheme 
of Mrs. Marshall for a purpose of her own. This led me to 
other investigations ; and the result was, that further com,mu- 
nication with Dr. Marshall on my part became impossible. I 
certainly regretted the circumstance, for he was a gentlemanly 
■ and intelligent man. 

Colonel Macirone himself was soon taught by Fouche what 
it is to be the tool of a traitor. Although the colonel might 
have owed no allegiance to Napoleon, he owed respect to liim- 
self; and having forfeited this to a certain degree, he had the 
mortification to find that the only remuneration which the 
arch-apostate was disposed to concede him was, public disgrace 
and a dungeon. 

22* 



514 BATTLE OF SEVRES AND ISSY. 



BATTLE OF SEVEES AND ISSY. 

Afternoon Ramble on the Boulevard Italien — Interrupted by the Report of Artillery — Sang- 
froid of the Fair Sex — Female Soldiers — The Author repairs to a PoinfcommaTidinu; the 
Field of Battle — Site of the Projected Palace of the King of Rome — Rapidity of the Move- 
ments of the French as contrasted with those of the Prussians — Blowing up of the Bridge 
of St. Cloud — Visit of the Author to the Encampment in the Champ de Mars — The 
Wounded Soldier. 

My anxiety to witness a battle, witliont being necessarily a 
party in it, did not long remain nngratified. While walking 
one afternoon on the Boulevard Italien, a very heavy firing of 
musketry and cannon burst upon my ear. It proceeded from 
up the course of the Seine, in the direction of Sevres. I knew 
at once that a military engagement was going forward, and 
my heart bounded at the thought : the sounds appeared to me 
of all others the most sublime and tremendous. One moment 
there was a rattling of musketry, wliich appeared nearer or 
more distant according to the strength of the gale which wafted 
its volleys ; another, the heavy echo of ordnance rolled through 
the groves and valley of Sevres, and the village of Issy ; again, 
these seemed superseded by a separate firing, as of small bod- 
ies of skirmishers : and the whole was mingled with the shouts 
and hurrahs of the assailants and assailed. Altogether, my 
nerves experienced a sensation different from any that had 
preceded it, and alike distinguished from both bravery and 
fear. 

As yet the battle had only reached me by one sense— -al- 
though imagination, it is true, supplied the place of all : though 
my eyes viewed not the field of action, yet the sanguinary 
conflict moved before my fancy in most vivid coloring. 

I was in company with Mr. Lewines, when the first firing 
roused our attention. " A treble line" of ladies was seated in 
front of Tortoni's, under the lofty arbors of the Boulevard Ital- 
ien, enjoying their ices and an early soiree, and attended by a 
host of unmilitary chcrs-aviis, who, together, with mendicant 
songsters and musicians, were dispersed along that line of fe- 
male attraction which " occupied" one side of the entire boule- 



FEMININE SANG-FEOID FEMALE SOLDIEES. 515 

vard, and with scarcely any interruption " stretched away" to 
the Porte St. Martin. Strange to say, scarcely a movement 
was excited among the fair part of the society by the report 
of the ordnance and musketry ; not one beauty rose from her 
chair, or checked the passage of the refreshing ice to her pout- 
ing lips. I -could not choose but be astonished at this apathy, 
which was only disturbed by the thunder of a tremendous 
salvo of artillery, announcing that the affair was becoming 
more general. 

''^ All ! sacre Dieu ! ma clih-e !''' said one lovely creature to 
another, as they sat at the entrance of Tortoni's ; " sacre Dieu ! 
qu'est-ce que ce sicperhe couf-la V — " Cest le canon, ma clicre .'" 
replied her friend ; " la hataille est a la pointe de coimnencer T — 
^^ Ah ! oui, oui ! c'est Men magnijique I -ecoutez ! ecoutez r'' —- 
"^7^," returned the other, tasting with curious deliberation her 
lemon-ice ; " cette glace est trcs excellent e .^" 

Meanwhile, the roar continued. I could stand it no longer; 
I was stung with curiosity, and determined to see the battle. 
Being at a very little distance from our hotel, I recommended 
Lady Barrington and my family to retire thither (which advice 
they did not take), and I immediately set off to seek a good 
position in the neighborhood of the fight, which I imagined 
could not be far distant, as the sounds seemed every moment 
to increase in strength. I now perceived a great UiSiTij gen- 
darmes, singly and in profound silence, strolling about the 
boulevard, and remarking (though without seeming to notice) 
everything and everybody. 

I had no mode of accounting for the fortitude and indiffer- 
ence of so many females, but by supposing that a great pro- 
portion of them might have been themselves campaigning with 
their husbands or their cliers-amis — a circumstance that, I was 
told, had been by no means uncommon during the wars of the 
E-evolution and of Napoleon. 

One lady told me herself that she did not dress for ten years 
in the attire of a female. Her husband. had acted, I believe, 
as commissary-general. They are both living and well, to the 
best of my knowledge, at this moment, at Boulogne-sur-Mer, 
and the lady is particularly clever and intelligent. " Noth- 



516 BATTLE OF SEVRES AND ISSY. 

ing," said slie to me one day, " nothing, sir, can longer appear 
strange to me. I really think I have Avitnessed an example 
of everything in human nature, good or evil !" — and, from the 
various character of the scenes through which she had passed, 
I believe her. 

A Jew physician living in the Kue Richelieu (a friend of 
Baron Rothschild), who had a tolerable telescope, had lent it 
to me. I first endeavored to gain admission into the pillar, in 
the Place Vendome, but was refused. I saw that the roof of 
Notre Dame was already crowded, and knew not where to go. 
I durst not pass a barrier, and I never felt the tortures of curi- 
osity so strongly upon me. At length I got a cabriolet, and 
desired the man to drive me to any point whence I might see 
the conflict. He accordingly took me to the farther end of the 
Kue de Bataille, at Chailloit, in the vicinity whereof was the 
site marked out for the palace of the king of Home. Here 
was a green plat, with a few trees ; and under one of those I 
sat down upon the grass and overlooked distinctly the entire 
left of the engagement, and the sanguinary combat which was 
fought on the slopes, lawn, and about the house and courts, of 
Bellevue. 

Whoever has seen the site of that intended palace must rec- 
ollect that the view it commands is one of the finest imagina- 
ble. It had been the hanging gardens of a monastery ; the 
Seine flows at the foot of the slope, and thence the eye wan- 
ders to the hill of Bellevue, and onward to St. Cloud. The 
village of Issy, which commences at the foot of Bellevue, 
stretches itself thinly up the banks of the Seine toward Paris 
— nearly to one of the suburbs — leaving just a verdant border 
of meadow and garden-ground to edge the waters. Extensive, 
undulating hills rise up behind the Hotel de Bellevue, and 
from them the first attack had been made upon the Prus- 
sians. In front, the Pont de Jena opens the entrance to the 
Champ de Mars, terminated by the magnificent gilt dome of 
the Hotel des Invalides, with the city of Paris stretching to 
the left. 

It was a tranquil evening : the sun, in all his glory, piercing 
through the smoke which mounted from the field of battle, and 



KAPID MOVEMENTS OF FKENCH TEOOPS. 517 

illuminating its sombre flakes, likened it to a ricli-gilded can- 
opy moving OA'er the combatants. 

The natural ardor of my mind was peculiarly stimulated on 
tliis occasion. Xever liaving witnessed before any scene of a 
corresponding nature, I could not (and indeed sought not to) 
repress a sensation of awe : I felt my breatliing sliort or pro- 
tracted as the character of the scene varied. An old soldier 
would no doubt have laughed at the excess of my emotion — 
particularly as the affair, although sharp, was not of a very 
extensive nature. One observation was forcibly impressed on 
me — namely, that both the firing and manoeuvring of the 
French were a great deal more rapid than those of the Prus- 
sians, When a change of position was made, the Prussians 
marched — the French ran. Their advance was quicker, their 
retreat less regular, but their rallying seemed to me most ex- 
traordinary : dispersed detachments of the French reassociated 
with the rapidity of lightning, and advanced again as if they 
had never separated. 

The combat within the palace of Bellevue and the courts 
were, of course, concealed : but if I might judge from the con- 
stant firing within, the sudden rushes from the . house, the 
storming at the entrance, and the battles on the lawn, there 
must have been great carnage. In my simplicity, in fact, I 
only wondered how anybody could escape. 

The battle now extended to the village of Issy, which was 
taken and retaken many times. Neither party could keep pos- 
session of it — scouting in and out as fortune wavered. At 
length, probably from the actual exhaustion of the men, the 
fire of musketry slackened, but the cannon still rolled at inter- 
vals around Sevres ; and a Prussian shell fell into the cele- 
brated manufactory of that place, while several cannon-shot 
penetrated the handsome hotel Avhicli stands on an eminence 
above Sevres, and killed fourteen or fifteen Prussian officers, 
who were in a group taking refreshment.* 

* I visited the spot a few days subsequently and fonnd that noble hall, 
■which had been totally lined by the finest mirrors, without' one remaining. 
I never saw such useless and wanton devastation as had been commiLted 
by the Prussians ! 



518 BATTLE OF SEVllES AND ISSY. 

I now began to feel weary of gazing on the boisterous mo- 
notony of the fight, which, so far as any advantage appeared 
to be gained on either side, might be interminable. A man 
actually engaged in battle can see but little, and think less ; 
but a secure and contemplative spectator has opened to him 
a field of inexhaustible reflection : and my faculties were fast 
becoming abstracted from the scene of strife, v/hen a loud and 
uncommon noise announced some singular event, and once 
more excited me. We could not perceive whence it came, but 
guessed, and truly, that it proceeded from the demolition of 
the bridge of St. Cloud, which the French had blown up. A 
considerable number of French troops now appeared withdraw- 
ing from the battle, and passing to our side of the river on 
rafts, just under our feet. We could not tell the cause of this 
movement, but it was reported by a man who came into the 
field that the English army at St. Denis was seen in motion, 
and that some attack on our side of the city itself might be 
expected. I scarcely believed this, yet the retreat of a part 
of the French troops tended not to discourage the idea ; and 
as the national guards were heard beating to arms in all direc- 
tions of the city, I thought it most advisable to return, which 
I immediately did, before the firing had ceased, in the same 
cabriolet. 

On my return, judge of my astonishment at finding tlie very 
same assemblage in the very same place on the boulevard as 
when I left it ; nor did a single being, except my own family, 
express the slightest curiosity upon hearing whence I had 
come ! 

The English army, as it turned out, did not move. The 
firing, after a while, totally ceased ; and the French cavalry 
(which I did not see engaged), with some infantry, marched 
into the Champ de Mars, to take up their night's position. 

Having thus been gratified by the view of what to my unac- 
customed eyes seemed a great battle, and would, I suppose, by 
military men be termed nothing more than a long skirmish, I 
met Sir Francis Gold, who proposed that we should walk to 
the Champ de Mars, "just," said he, "to see what the fellows 
are doing after the battle." 



VISIT TO THE FRENCH ENCAMPMENT. 519 

To this I peremptorily objected, for reasons which must be 
obvious, and which seemed to prohibit any Englishman in his 
sober senses from going into such company at such a moment. 
"Never mind," continued Sir Fra^icis, "I love my skin ev- 
ery bit as well as you do yours ; and depend upon it we shall 
not meet the slightest molestation. If we go with a lady in 
our company, be assured Ave may walk about and remain in 
the place as long as we please. I can speak from experience." 

*' Ah, true, true ! but where is the lady V said I. 

" I will introduce you to a very charming one of my ac- 
quaintance," answered Sir Francis, " and I'll request her to do 
us the favor of accompanying us." I now half-reluctantly 
agreed ; curiosity prevailed, as usual, and away we went to the 
lodgings of Sir Francis's fair friend. 

The lady certainly did not dishonor the epithet Sir Francis 
had bestowed on her : she was a young, animated French girl, 
rather pretty, and well dressed — one of those lively creatures 
who, you would say, always have their " wits about them." My 
friend explained the request he had come to prefer, and begged 
her to make her toilet with all convenient expedition. The lady 
certainly did not dissent, but her acquiescence was followed 
by a hearty and seemingly uncontrollable burst of laughter. 
"Excuse me, gentlemen," exclaimed she, "but really I can 
not help laughing. I will, with pleasure, walk with you ; but 
the idea of my playing the escort to two gallant English cheva- 
liers, both (Vage mur, is too ridiculous. However, n^imjporte ! 
I will endeavor to defend you, though against a whole army !" 

The thing unquestionably did look absurd, and I could not 
restrain myself from joining in the laugh. Sir Francis too be- 
came infected, and we made a regular chorus of it, after which 
the gay Frenchwoman resumed : — 

" But surely. Sir Francis, you pay the French a great com- 
pliment ; for you have often told me how you alone used to 
put to flight whole troops of rebels in your own country, and 
take entire companies with your single hand !" 

Champagne was now introduced, and Sir Francis and I hav- 
ing each taken a glass or two, at the lady's suggestion, to keep 
np our courage, we sallied out in search of adventures to the 



520 BATTLE OF SEVEES AND ISSY. 

Champ de Mars. The sentinel at the entrance demurred a 
little on our presenting ourselves ; but our fair companion, with 
admirable presence of mind, put it to his gallantry not to re- 
fuse admittance to a lady ; and the polite soldier, with very 
good grace, permitted us to pass. Once fairly inside, we 
strolled about for above two hours, not only unmolested, but 
absolutely unnoticed — although I can not say I felt perfectly 
at ease. It is certain that the presence of the female protected 
us. The respect paid to women by the French soldiery is 
apparent at all their meetings, whether for conviviality or 
service ; and I have seen as much decorum preserved in an 
alehouse festivity at Paris as at the far-famed Almack's in 
London. 

The scene within the barrier must have appeared curious to 
any Englishman. The troops had been about an hour on the 
ground after fighting all the evening in the village of Issy : the 
cavalry had not engaged, and their horses were picketed. 
The soldiers had got in all directions tubs of water, and were 
washing their hands and faces which had been covered with 
dirt — their motiths being quite blackened by the cartridges. 
In a little time everything was arranged for a merry-making : 
some took off their coats, to dance the lighter ; the bands 
played ; an immense number of women, of all descriptions, had 
come to welcome them back ; and in half an hour after we 
arrived there, some hundred couples were at the quadrilles and 
waltzes, as if nothing had occurred to disturb their tranquillity. 
It appeared, in fact, as if they had not only totally forgotten 
what had passed that day, but cared not a sous as to what 
might happen the next. 

Old women, with frying-pans strapped before them, were 
incessantly frying sliced-potatoes, livers, and bacon : we tasted 
some of these dainties, and found them really quite savory. 
Some soldiers, who were tired or perhaps slightly hurt, were 
sitting in the fosses cooking soup, and, together with the ven- 
ders of bottled beer, &c., stationed on the elevated banks, 
gave the whole a picturesque appearance. I saw a very few 
men who had rags tied round their heads ; some who limped a 
little ; and others who had their hands in slings : but nobody 



THE WOUNDED VETERAN. 521 

seemed to regard these, or indeed anytliing- except their own 
pleasure. The wounded had been carried to hospitals, and I 
suppose the dead were left on the ground for the night. The 
guards mounted at the Champ de Mars were all fresh troops. 

There were few circumstances attending that memorable era 
which struck me more forcibly than the miserable condition of 
those groups of fugitives who continued every hour arriving in 
Paris during the few days immediately succeeding their signal 
discomfiture at Waterloo. These unfortunate stragglers ar- 
rived in parties of two, three, or four, and in a state of utter 
destitution — most of them without arms, many without shoes, 
and some almost ndked. A great proportion of them were 
wounded and bandaged : they had scarcely rested at all on 
their return ; in short, I never beheld such pitiable figures. 

One of these unfortunate men struck me forcibly one evening 
as an object of interest and compassion. He was limping 
along the Boulevard Italien : his destination I knew not ; he 
looked elderly, but had evidently been one of the finest men I 
ever saw, and attached, I rather think, to the imperial guard. 
His shoes were worn out ; his clothes in rags ; scanty hairs 
were the only covering of his head ; one arm was bandaged 
up with a bloody rag, and slung from his neck by a string ; 
his right thigh and leg were also bandaged, and he seemed to 
move with pain and difficulty. 

Such figures v/ere, it is true, so common during that period, 
that nobody paid them much attention : this man, however, 
somehow or other, interested me peculiarly. It was said, that 
he was going to the Hotel Dieu, where he would be taken 
good care of: but I felt .greatly for the old warrior; and 
crossing the street, put, without saying a word, a dollar into 
his yellow and trembling hand. 

He stopped, looked at me attentively then at the dollar ; and 
appearing doubtful whether or no he ought to receive it, said, 
with an emphatic tone, "Not for charity .'" 

I saw his pride was kindled, and, replied, *' No, my friend, 
in respect to your bravery !" and I was walking away, when I 
heard his voice exclaiming, " Monsieur, monsieur !" I turned, 
and as he hobbled up to me, he surveyed me in silence from head 



522 CAPITULATION OF PARIS. 

to foot ; then, looking earnestly in my face, lie held out his 
hand with the dollar : " Excuse me, monsieur," said he, in a 
firm and rather proud tone — "you are an Englishman, and I 
can not receive bounty from the enemy of my emperor." 

Good God ! thought I, what a man must Napoleon have 
been ! This incident alone affords a key to all his victories. 



CAPITULATION OF PARIS. 

Retirement of the Army of Vilpfte behind the Loire. — Occupation of the French Capita] by 
the Allies — Thoughts on the Disposition of the Bourbon Government toward Great Britain 
— Conduct of the Allies after' their Possession of Paris — InfringeraeTits of the Treaty — 
Removal of the Works of Art from the Louvre— Pteflections on the Inj\irious Results of 
that Measure to the British Student — Liberal Motive operating on the English Adminis- 
tration of that Period — Little Interludes efot up betwepn the Frencli King and the Allies 
— Louis XVIIL's Ma>rnanimous Letters — Threatened Desti-uction of the Pont de Jena by 
Marshal Blucher — Heroic Resoluti()n of His Most Christian Majesty to perish in the Ex- 
plosion. 

The rapid succession of these extraordinary events bore to 
me the character of some optical delusion, and my mind was 
settling into a train of reflections on the past and conjectures 
as to the future, when Fouche capitulated for Paris, and gave 
up France to -the discretion of its enemies. In a few hours 
after, I saw that enthusiastic, nay, that half-frantic army of 
Vilette (in the midst of which I had an opportunity of wit- 
nessing a devotion to its chief which no defeat could diminish) 
on the point of total annihilation. I saw the troops, sad and 
crest-fallen, marching out of Paris to consummate, behind the 
Loire, the fall of France as a warlike kingdom. With arms 
still in their hands, with a great park of artillery, and com-" 
manded by able generals, yet were they constrained to turn 
their backs on their metropolis, abandoning it to the " tender 
mercies" of the Eussian Cossacks, whom they had so often 
conquered. 

I saw, likewise, that most accomplished of traitors, Fouche, 
duke of Otranto (who had with impunity betrayed his patron 
and his master), betraying in their turn, his own tools and in- 
struments—signing lists of proscription for the death or exile 



SUBSEQUENT CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES. 523 

of those whose ill-fortune or worse principle had rendered 
them his dupes ; and thus confirming, in my mind, the skep- 
ticism as to men and measures which had long been growing 
on me. 

The only political point I fancy at present that I can see 
any certainty in, is, that the French nation is not mad enough 
to hazard lightly a fresh war with England. The highest- 
flown ultras — even the Jesuits themselves — can not forget 
that to the inexhaustible perseverance of the United Kingdom 
is mainly attributable the present political condition of Europe. 
The jjeople of France may not, it is true, owe us much grati- 
tude ; but, consideriiig that we transmitted both his present 
and his late majesty safely from exile here to their exalted 
station among the potentates of Europe, I do hope, for the 
honor of our common nature, that the government of that 
country would not willingly turn the AA^eapons which we put 
into their hands against ourselves. If they should, however, 
it is not too much to add, bearing in mind what we have 
successfully coped Avith, that their hostility Avould be as inef- 
fectual as ungrateful. And here, I can not abstain from 
briefly congratulating my felloAv- country men on the manly and 
encouraging expoi^ition of our national poAver recently put forth 
by Mr. Canning in the house of commons. Let them rest 
assured, that it has been felt by every cabinet in Europe — 
even to its core. The holy alliance has dAvindled into com- 
parative insignificance ; and Great Britain, under an energetic 
and liberal-minded administration, reassumes that influence to 
which she is justly entitled, as one in the first order of Euro- 
pean empires. 

To return : — The conduct of the allies after their occupation 
of Paris Avas undoubtedly strange, to say the least of it ; and 
nothing could be more inconsistent than that of the populace 
on the return of King Louis. That Paris was betrayed is cer- 
tain ; and that the article of capitulation Avhich provided that 
" whereA^er doubts existed, the constructioji should be in favor 
of the Parisians," Avas not adhered to, is equally so. It A\''as 
never in contemplation, for instance, that the capital Avas to be 
rifled of all the monuments of art and antiquity, Avhereof she 



624: CAPITULATION OF PARIS. 

had become possessed by rigbt of conquest. A reclamation of 
the great mortar in St. James' Park, or of tbe throne of the 
king of Ceylon, would have just as much appearance of fair- 
ness as that of Apollo by the pope, and Venus by the grand- 
duke of Tuscany. What preposterous affectatian of justice 
was there in employing British engineers to take down the 
brazen horses of Alexander the Great, in order that they may 
be re-erected in St. Mark's Place at Venice — a city to which 
the Austrian emperor has no more equitable a claim than we 
have to Vienna ! I always was, and still remain to be, de- 
cidedly of opinion that, by giving our aid in emptying the 
Louvre, we authorized not only an act of unfairness to the 
French, but of impolicy as concerned ourselves ; since by so 
doing, we have removed beyond the reach of the great majority 
of British artists and students the finest models of sculpture 
and of painting this world has produced. 

When this step was first determined on, the Prussians began 
with moderation: they rather smuggled away than openly 
stole, fourteen paintings ; but no sooner was this rifling purpose 
generally made known, than his Iwliness, the pope, was all 
anxiety to have his gods again locked up in the dusty store- 
rooms of the Vatican ! The Parisians now took fire. They 
remonstrated, and protested against this infringement of the 
treaty ; and a portion of the national guards stoutly declared 
that they would defend the gallery ! But the king loved the 
pope's toe better than all the works of art ever achieved ; and 
the German autocrat being also a devoted friend of St. Peter's 
(while at the same time he lusted after the '' brazen images"), 
the assenting fiat was given. Wishing, however, to throw the 
stigma from the shoulders of catholic monarchs upon those of 
protestant soldiers, these wily allies determined that, although 
England was not to share the spoil, she should bear the trou- 
ble ; and, therefore, threatened the national guards with a 
regiment of Scotchmen- — which threat produced the desired 
effect. 

Now it may be said, that the " right of conquest" is as strong 
on one side as on the other, and justifies the reclamation as 
fully as it did the original capture of these clief d'oeuvres : to 



LOUIS XVIII. A^^D THE ALLIES. 525 

■whicli plausible argument I oppose two words; the treaty! the 
treaty ! Besides, if the riglit of concjuest is to decide, then I 
fearlessly advance the claim of Great Britain, Avho was the 
principal agent in winning the prize at Waterloo, and had, 
therefore, surelj a right to wear at least some portion of it ; 
but who, nevertheless, stood by and sanctioned the injustice, 
although she had too high a moral sense to participate in it. 
What will my fellow-countrymen say, when they hear that the 
liberal motive which served to counterbalance, in the minds of 
the British ministry of that day, the solid advantages resulting 
from the retention of the works of art at Paris, was a jealousy 
of suffering the French capital to remain " the Athens of 
Europe !" 

The farce played ojff between the French king and the allies 
was supremely ridiculous. The Cossacks bivouacked in the 
square of the Carrousel before his majesty's windows ; and 
soldiers dried their shirts and trowsers on the iron railings of 
the palace. This was a nuisance ; and for the purpose of 
abating it, three pieces of ordnance duly loaded, with a gun- 
ner and ready-lighted match, were stationed day and night 
upon the quay, and pointed directly at his majesty's drawing- 
room, so that one salvo would have despatched the most 
Christian king and all his august family to the genuine Champs 
Ely see. This was carrying the jest rather too far, and every 
rational man in Paris was shaking his sides at so shallow a 
manoeuvre, when a new object of derision appeared in shape of 
a letter purporting to be written by King Louis, expressing his 
wish that he was young and active enough (who would doabt 
his wish to grow young again?) to put himself at the head of 
his own army, attack his puissant allies, and cut them all to 
pieces for their duplicity to his loving and beloved subjects. 

A copy of this letter was given me by a colonel of the na- 
tional guards, who said that it was circulated by the highest 
authority. 

" Lettre du Roy au Prince Talleyrand. 

"Du 22 Juillet, 1815. 
" La conduite des armes alliees reduira bientdt mon people 
a s'armer centre elles, comme on a fait en Espagne. 



526 CAPITULATION OF PAKIS. 

" Plus jenne, je me mettrais a satete ; — mais, si Page et mes 
infirmites m'en empeclient, je ne veux pas, au moins, paroitre 
coiiniyer a des mesures clont je gemis ! je suis resolu, si je ne 
puis les adoucir, a demander asile au roi d'Espagne. 

" Que ceux qui, meme apres la capture de riiomme a qui ils 
on declare la guerre, continuent a traiter mon peuple en enne- 
mi, et doivent par consequent me regarder comme tel, attentent 
s'ils le veulent a ma liberte ! ils en sont les maitres ! j'aime 
mieux vivre dans ma prison que de rester ici, temoin passif des 
pleurs de mes enfans." 

But — to close tlie scene of his majesty's gallantry, and anx- 
iety to preserve the capitulation entire. After he had per- 
mitted the plunder of the Louvre, a report was circulated that 
Blucher was determined to send all considerations of the treaty 

to the d , and with his soldiers to blow up the Pont de Jena, 

as the existence of a bridge so named was an insult to the 
victorious Prussians! This was, it must be admitted, suffi- 
ciently in character with Blucher : but some people were so 
fastidious as to assert that it was in fact only a claptrap on be- 
half of his most Christian majesty ; and true it was, that next 
day copies of a very dignified and gallant letter from Louis 
XVIIL, were circulated extensively throughout Paris. The 
purport of this royal epistle was not remonstrance : that would 
have been merely considered as matter of course : it demand- 
ed that Marshal Blucher should inform his majesty of the pre- 
cise moment the bridge was to be so blown up, as his majesty 
(having no power of resistance) was determined to go in per- 
son, stand upon the bridge at the time of the explosion, and 
mount into the air amid the stones and mortar of his beautiful 
piece of architecture ! No doubt it would have been a sublime 
termination of so sine cura a reign, and would have done more 
to immortalize the Bourbon dynasty than anything they seem 
at present likely to accomplish ! 

However, Blucher frustrated that gallant achievement, as he 
did many others, and declared, in reply, that he would not 
singe a hair of his majesty's head for the pleasure of blowing 
up a hundred bridges ! 



THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS. 527 



THE CATACOMBS AND PERE LA CHAISE. 

The Catacombs of Paris — Ineffeotive Nature of the Written Description of these as com- 
pared with the E.pahty — Auihor's Descent into them — His Speedy Return — Contrast 
presented by the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise — Tomb of Abelard and Heloise — An En- 
glish Capitaiist'o Notions of Sentiment. 

The stupendous catacombs of Paris form perhaps the great- 
est curiosity of tliat capital. I have seen many well-written 
descriptions of this magazine of human fragments, yet on actu- 
ally visiting it, my sensations of awe, and I may add, of dis- 
gust, exceeded my miticipation. 

I found myself (after descending to a considerable depth 
from the light of day) among winding vaults, where, ranged 
on every side, are the trophies of death's universal conquest. 
Myriads of grim, fleshless, grinning visages, seem (even through 
their eyeless sockets) to stare at the passing mortals who have 
succeeded them, and ready with long knotted fingers to grasp 
the living into their own society. On turning away from these 
hideous objects, my sight was arrested by innumerable white 
scalpless skulls and mouldering limbs of disjointed skeletons, 
mingled and misplaced in terrific pyramids ; or, as if in mock- 
ery of nature, framed into mosaics, and piled into walls and 
barriers ! 

There are men of nerve strong enough to endure the con- 
templation of such things without shrinking. I participate 
not in this apathetic m.ood. Almost at the first step which I 
took between these ghastly ranks in the deep catacomb 
d'Enfer (whereunto I had plunged by a descent of ninety 
steps), my spirit no longer remained buoyant ; it felt subdued 
and cowed ; my feet reluctantly advanced through the gloomy 
mazes : and at length a universal thrill of horror crawled along 
the surface of my flesh. It would have been to little purpose 
to protract this struggle, and force my will to obedience : I 
therefore, instinctively as it were, made a retrograde move- 
ment; I ascended into the world again, and left my less sensi- 
tive and wiser friends to explore at leisure those dreary re- 
gions. And never did the sun appear to me more bright; 



528 THE CATACOMBS AND PEKE LA CHAISE. 

never did I feel Lis rays more clieering and genial ; than as I 
emerged from the melancholy catacombs into the open air. 

The visiter of Paris will find it both curious and interesting 
to contrast with these another receptacle for the dead — the 
cemetery of Pere la Chaise. It is strange that there should 
exist among the same people, in the same city, and almost in 
the same vicinity, two Golgothas in their nature so utterly dis- 
similar and repugnant from each other. 

The soft and beautiful features of landscape which charac- 
terize Pere la Chaise are scarcely describable : so harmoni- 
ously are they blended together, so sacred does the spot appear 
to quiet contemplation and hopeful repose, that it seems almost 
profanation to attempt to submit its charms in detail before 
the reader's eye. All in fact that I had ever read about it 
fell, as in the case of the catacombs ('' alike, but ah, how dif- 
ferent !") — far short of the reality. 

I have wandered whole mornings together over its winding 
paths and venerable avenues. Here are no " ninety steps" of 
descent to gloom and horror ; on the contrary, a gradual ascent 
leads to the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, and to its enchanting 
summit, on every side shaded by brilliant evergreens. The 
straight lofty cypress and spreading cedar uplift themselves 
around, and the arbutus exposing all its treasure of deceptive 
berries. In lieu of the damp mouldering scent exhaled by 
three millions of human skeletons, we are presented with the 
fragrant perfume of jessamines and of myrtles-^ — of violet-beds 
or variegated flower-pots decked out by the ministering hand 
of love or duty ; as if benignant Nature had spread her most 
splendid carpet to cover, conceal, and render alluring even the 
abode of death. 

Whichever way we turn, the labors of art combine with the 
luxuriance of vegetation to raise in the mind new reflections : 
marble, in all its varieties of shade and grain, is wrought by 
the hand of man into numerous and bewitching shapes ; while 
one of the most brilliant and cheerful cities in the universe 
seems to lie, with its wooded boulevards, gilded domes, pala- 
ces, gardens, and glittering waters, just beneath our feet. One 
sepulchre alone, of a decidedly mournful character, attracted 



TOMB OF ABELARD AlsT> HELOISE. 529 

my notice ; a large and solid mausoleum, buried amidst gloomy- 
yews and low drooping willows ; and tliis looked only like a 
patcli on tke face of lovelinesss. Pere la Chaise presents a 
solitary instance of the abode of the dead ever interesting me 
in an agreeable way. 

I will not remark on the well-known tomb of Abelard and 
Heloise : a hundred pens have anticipated me in most of the 
observations I should be inclined to make respecting that cel- 
ebrated couple. The most obvious circumstance in their " sad 
story" always struck me as being — that he turned* priest when 
he was good for nothing else, and she became " quite correct" 
when opportunities for the reverse began to slacken. They 
no doubt Avere properly qualified to make very respectable 
saints : but since they took care previously to have their fling, 
I can not say much for their niorality. 

I am not sure that a burial-place similar to Pere la Chaise 
would be admired in England : it is almost of too picturesque 
and sentimental a character. The humbler orders of the En- 
glish people are too coarse to appreciate the peculiar feeling 
such a cemetery is calculated to excite : the higher orders too 
licentious ; the trading classes too avaricious. The plumholder 

of the city would very honestly and frankly " d n all your 

nonsensical sentiment !" I heard one of these gentlemen, last 
year, declare that what poets and such-like called sentiment 
was neither more nor less than deadly poison to the protestant 
religion ! 

23 



530 PEDIGREE'IITJNTING. 



PEDiaHEE-HUNTING. 

The Author's Efforts to Discover the Source of his Name and Family — The Irish Herald-at- 
Arms — Reference made by him to the English Professor — Heraldic Speculation — Ascent 
of the Autlior's Pedigi'ee to the Heign of William the Conqueror — Consultation with the 
Norman Herald suggested — Author's Visit to Rouen — Aiiecdotes of French Convents — 
Madame Cousin and her System — Traits of Toleration — M. Helliot, the celebrated ancien 
avocat of Rouen — Practice of Legal Bigamy in Normandy — A Breakfast Party — Death of 
M. Helliot — Intervievi^ with an old Herald, formerly of the Noblesse — His Person and 
Costume described — Discovery of the Town and Castle of Barendn — Occurrences there 
— The old Beggar-Man — Visit to Jersey, where Drogo de Barentin was killed in defen- 
ding the Castle of Mont Orgueil — Return to Barentin, and Singular Incident at Ivetot — 
Conclusion. 

My visit to France enabled me, besides gratifying myself by 
the sight and observation of the distinguislied eliaracters of 
whom I have, in the Sketches immediately foregoing, made 
mention, to pursue an inquiry that I had set on foot some time 
previously in my own country. 

As I have already informed the reader in the commence- 
ment of this work, I was brought up among a sort of demo- 
cratic aristocracy, which like the race of wolf-dogs, seems to 
be extinct in Ireland. The gentry of those days took the 
greatest care to trace, and to preserve by tradition, the pedi- 
gree of their families and the exploits of their ancestors. 

It is said that " he must be a wise man who knows his own 
father;" but if there are thirty or forty of one's forefathers to 
make out, it must ' necessarily be a research rather difficult for 
ordinary capacities. Such are therefore in the habit of resort- 
ing to a person who obtains his livelihood by begetting grand- 
fathers and great-grandfathers ad infinitum; namely, the 
herald, who, without much tedious research, can, in these com- 
mercial days, furnish any private gentleman, dealer, or chap- 
man, with as beautifully-transcribed, painted, and gilt a 
pedigree as he chooses to be at the expense of purchasing — 
with arms, crests, and mottoes, to match : nor are there among 
the nobility themselves emblazonments more gaudy than may 
occasionally be seen upon the tilbury of some retired tailor, 
whose name was probably selected at random by the nurse of 
a foundling hospital. 



THE lEISH AND ENGLISH HEEALDS-AT-ARMS. 531 

But as there is, I believe, no great mob of persons bearing 
my name in existence, and as it is pretty well known to be 
rather old, I fancied I would pay a visit to our Irish herald-at- 
arms, to find out, if possible, from what country I originally 
sprang. After having consulted everything he had to consult, 
this worthy functionary only brought me back to Queen 
Elizabeth, which was doing nothing, as it was that virgin 
monarch, who had made the first territorial grant to my 
family in Ireland, with liberty to return two members to every 
future parliament, which they actually did down to my father's 
time. 

The Irish herald inost honorably assured me that he could 
not carry me one inch farther, and so (having painted a most 
beautiful pedigree), he recommended me to the English her- 
ald-at-arms, who, he had no doubt, could take up the thread, 
and unravel it to my satisfaction. 

I accordingly took the first opportunity of consulting this 
fresh oracle, whose minister having politely heard my case, 
transferred it to writing — screwed up his lips — and looked 
steadfastly at the ceiling for some five minutes : he then 
began to reckon centuries on his fingers, took down several 
large books full of emblazonments, nodded his head, at last, 
cleverly and scientifically taking me up from the times of 
Queen Elizabeth, where I had been abruptly dropped by my 
fellow-countryman, delivered me, in less than a fortnight, as 
handsome a genealogical tree as could be reasonably desired : 
on this I triumphantly ascended to the reign of William the 
Conq[uerer, and the battle of Hastings, at Avhich some of my 
ancestors were, it appears, fairly sped, and provided with neat 
'lodgings in Battle abbey, where, for aught I know to the con- 
trary, they still remain. 

The English herald-at-arms also informed me (but rather 
mysteriously) that it was jprobahle I had a right to put a 
French De at the beginning of my name, as there was a Nor- 
man ton at the end of it ; but that, as he did not profess French 
heraldry, I had better inquire farther from some of the craft 
in Normandy, where that science had at the period of the 
Crusades greatly flourished — William the Conqueror, at the 



532 PEDIGEEE-HUN'nNG. 

time he was denominated tlie bastard, having by all accounts 
established a very celebrated heraldic college at Eouen. 

I was much pleased with his candor, and thus the matter 
rested until Louis XYIII. returned home with his family, 
when, as the reader is aware, I likewise passed over to France 
with mine. 

I did not forget the hint given me by my armorial friend in 
London : and in order to benefit by it, repaired, as soon as 
circumstances permitted, to Rouen, in which town we had 
been advised to place our two youngest daughters, for pur- 
poses of education, at a celebrated Ursuline convent, the 
abbess whereof was considered a more tolerating religieuse 
than any of her contemporaries. Before I proceed to detail 
the sequel of my heraldic investigations, I will lay before the 
reader one or two anecdotes connected with French nunneries. 

The abbess of the convent in question, Madame Cousin, was 
a fine handsome old nun, as affable and insinuating as possible, 
and gained on us at first sight. She enlarged on the great 
advantages of her system ; and showed us long galleries of 
beautiful little bedchambers, together with gardens overlook- 
ing the boulevards and adorned by that interesting toAver 
wherein Jeanne d'Arc was so long confined previously to her 
martyrdom. Her table, Madame Cousin assured us, was ex- 
cellent and abundant. 

I was naturally impressed with an idea that a nvM feared 
God at any rate too much to tell twenty direct falsehoods and 
practise twenty deceptions in the course of half an hour, for 
the lucre of fixfty Napoleons, which she required in advance, 
without the least intention of giving the value of five for them ; 
and, under this impression, I paid down the sum demanded, 
gave up our two children to Madame Cousin's motherly tutel- 
age, and returned to the Hotel de France almost in love with 
the old abbess. 

On our return to Paris, we received letters from my daugh- 
ters, giving a most flattering account of the convent generally, 
of the excellence of Madame I'Abbesse, the plenty of good 
food, the comfort of the bedrooms, and the extraordinary prog- 
ress they were making in their several acquirements. I was 



ANECDOTES OF FRENCH NUNNEIIIES. 533 

hence iuduced to commence tlie second half-year, also in adr 
vance ; when a son-in-law of mine, calling to see my daugh- 
ters, requested the eldest to dine with him at his hotel, which 
request was long resisted by the abbess, and only granted at 
length with manifest reluctance. When arrived at the hotel, 
the poor girl related a tale of a very different description, from 
the foregoing, and as piteous as unexpected. Her letters had 
been dictated to her by a priest. I had scarcely arrived at 
Paris, when my children were separated, turned away from 
the show bedrooms, and allowed to speak any language to 
each other only one hour a day, and not a icord on Sundays. 
The eldest was urged to turn catholic ; and above all, they 
were fed in a manner at once so scanty and so bad, that my 
daughter begged hard not to be taken back, but to accompany 
her brother-in-law to Paris. This was conceded ; and when 
the poor child arrived, I saw the necessity of, immediately re- 
calling her sister. I was indeed shocked at seeing her — so 
wan and thin, and greedy did she appear. 

On our first inquiry for the convent above alluded to, we 
were directed by mistake to another establishment belonging 
to the saint of the same name, but bearing a very inferior ap- 
pearance, and superintended by an abbess whose toleration 
certainly erred not on the side of laxity. We saw the old 
lady within her grated lattice. She would not come out to 
us ; but on being told our business, smiled as cheerfully as 
fanaticism would let her. (I dare say the expected jpension 
already jingled in her glowing fancy.) Our terms were soon 
concluded, and everything was arranged when Lady Barring- 
ton, as a final direction requested that the children should not 
be called too early in the morning, as they were unused to it. 
The old abbess started : a gloomy doubt seemed to gather on 
her furrowed temples ; her nostrils distended ; and she abruptly 
asked, " N'etesvous pas catlioliques V 

" Non," replied Lady Barrington, "nous sommes protestansP 

The countenance of the abbess now utterly fell, and she 

shrieked out, " Mon Dieu ! alors vous etes Jieretiques ! Je ne 

jpermets jamais d^lieretique dans ce convent ! allez I allez ! vos 

enfans n^entreront jamais dans le convent des JJrsnlines ! allez / 



534: PEDIGREE-HUNTING. 

allez P^ and instantly crossing herself, and muttering, slie 
withdrew from the grate. 

Jnst as we were turned out, we encountered, near the gate, 
a very odd though respectable looking figure. It Avas that of 
a man whose stature must originally have exceeded six feet, 
and who was yet erect, and," but for the natural shrinking of 
age, retained his full height and manly presence : his limbs 
still bore him gallantly, and the frosts of eighty winters had 
not yet chilled his warmth of manner. His dress was neither 
neat nor shabby; it Avas of silk — of the old costume: his 
thin hair was loosely tied behind ; and on the whole he ap- 
peared to be what we call above the tvorld. 

This gentleman saw that we were at a loss about something 
or -other ; and with the constitutional politeness- of a French- 
man of the old school, at once begged us to mention our em- 
barrassinent and command his services. Everybody, he told 
us, knew him, and he knew everybody at Eouen. We ac- 
cepted his offer, and he immediately constituted himself czm- 
heo to the ladies and Mentor to me. After having led us to 
the other convent des Ursulines, of which I have spoken, he 
dined with us, and I conceived a great respect for the old 
gentleman. It was Monsieur Helliot, once a celebrated avo- 
cat of the parliament at Rouen : his good manners and good 
nature rendered his society a real treat to us ; while his mem- 
ory, information, and activity, were almost wonderful. He 
was an improvisore poet, and could converse in rhyme and 
sing a hundred songs of his own composing. 

On my informing M. Helliot that one of my principal 
objects at Houen was a research in heraldry, he said he would 
next day introduce me to the person of all others most likely 
to satisfy me on that point. His friend was, he told me of a 
noble family, and had originally studied heraldry for his 
amusement, but was subsequently necessitated to practise it 
for pocket-money, since his regular income was barely suffi- 
cient (as was then the average with the old nobility of Nor- 
mandy) to provide him soup in plenty, a room and a bed- 
recess, a weekly laundress and a repairing tailor. " Rouen," 
continued the old advocate, " requires no heralds new ! The 



M. I1J':LL10T ^LEUAI. B:GA.^[Y. , ;jt>0 

nobles are not even able to emblazon their pedigrees, and tbe 
manufacturers purchase arms and crests from the Paris heralds, 
who have always a variety of magnificent ones to disjwse of 
suitable to their new customers." 

M. Helliot had a country-house about four miles from Rouen, 
near the commandery, which is on the Seine : a beautiful 
wild spot, formerly the property of the knights of St. John of 
Jerusalem. Helliot's house had a large garden ornamented 
by his own hands : he one day came to us to beg we would 
fix a morning for taking a dejeuner a la fourchette at his cot- 
tage, and brought with him a long bill of fare (containing 
nearly everything in the eating and drinking way that could 
be procured at Rouen), whereon he requested we would mark 
with a pencil our favorite dishes ! He said, this was always 
their ancient mode v\^hen they had the honor of a societe distin- 
gue, and we were obliged to humor him. He was delighted ; 
and then assuming a more serious air, " But," said he, '' I have 
a very particular reason for inviting you to my cottage : it is 
to have the honor of introducing you to a lady who, old as I 
am, has consented to marry me the ensuing spring. " I know," 
added he, " that I shall be happier in her society than in that 
of any other person : and, at my time of life, we want some- 
body interested in rendering our limited existence as comfort- 
able as possible." 

This seemed ludicrous enough, and the ladies' curiosity 
was excited to see old Helliot's sweetheart. We were accord- 
ingly punctual to our hour. He had a boat ready, to take us 
across the Seine near the commandery, and we soon entered 
a beautiful garden in a high state of order. In the house (a 
small and very old one) we found a most excellent repast. 
The only company besides ourselves was the old herald to 
whom M. Helliot had introduced me ; and, after a few min- 
utes, he led from an inner chamber his intended bride. She 
appeared, in point of years, at least as venerable as the bride- 
groom; but a droop in the person and a waddle in the gait 
bespoke a constitution much more enfeebled than- that of the 
gallant who was to lead her to the altar. " This," said the ad- 
vocate, as he presented her to the company, " is Madame 



536 PEDIGHEE-IIUNTING. 

but nHmporte ! after our repast you shall learn lier name 
and history. Pray, madame," pursued he, " with an air of 
infinite politeness, "have the goodness to do the honors of the 
table ;" and his request, was complied with as nimbly as his 
inamorata's quivering hands wo;ild permit. 

The wine went round merrily : the old lady declined not 
her glass ; the herald took enough to serve him for the two or 
three following days ; old Helliot hobnobbed a la mode An- 
glaise ; and in half an hour we were as cheerful, and, I should 
think, as curious a breakfast party as Upper Normandy had 
ever produced. 

When the repast was ended, "Now," said our host, " you 
shall learn the history of this venerable bride that is to be on 
or about the 15th of April next. You know,'.' continued he, 
*' that between the age of seventy and death the distance is 
seldom very great, and that a person of your nation who arrives 
at the one, is generally fool enough to be always gazing at 
the other. Now we Frenchmen like, if possible, to evade the 
prospect ; and with that object we contrive some new event, 
which, if it can not conceal, may at least take ofP our attention 
from it ; and of all things in the world, I believe matrimony 
will be admitted to be most effectual either in fixing an epoch 
or directing a-current of thought. We antiquated gentry here, 
therefore, have a little law, or rather custom, of our own, 
namel}^ that after a man has been in a state of matrimony for 
fifty years, if his charmer survives, they undergo the ceremony 
of a second marriage, and so begin a new contract for another 
half-century, if their joint lives so long continue ! and inas- 
much as Madame Helliot (introducing the old lady anew, kiss- 
ing her cheek, and chucking her under the chin) has been 
now forty-nine years and four months on her road to a second 
husbj^nd, the day that fifty years are completed we shall re- 
commence our honey-moon, and every friend we have will, I 
hope, come and see the happy reunion." — "Ah !" said mad-> 
ame, " I fear my bride's maid Madame Veuve Gerard, can't 
hold out so long ! Mais, Dieu Merci f cried she, "I think I 
shall myself, monsieur," addressing me " be well enough to get 
through the ceremony." 



INTERVIEW WITH AN OLD FKENCH HERALD. 537 

I wish I could end this little episode as my heart would dic- 
tate. But, alas I a cold caught by my friend the advocate, 
boating on the Seine, before the happy month arrived, pre- 
vented a ceremony which I would Have gone almost any dis- 
tance to witness. Sic transit gloria mundi ! 

But to my heraldic investigation. The old professor with 
whom M. Helliot had made me acquainted, had been one of 
the ancienne noblesse, and carried in his look and deportment 
evident marks of the rank from which he had been compelled 
to descend. Although younger than the advocate, he was still 
somewhat stricken in years. His hair, thin and highly pow- 
dered, afforded a queue longer than a quill and nearly as 
bulky. A tight plaited stock and solitaire, a tucker and ruffles, 
and a cross with the order of St. Louis ; a well-cleaned black 
suit (which had survived many a cuff and cape, and seen many 
a year of full-dress service), silk stockings, paste knee and 
large silver shoe-buckles, completed his toilet. 

He said, on my first visit, in a desponding voice, that he 
deeply regretted the publicans had burned most of his books 
and records during the revolution ; and having consequently 
little or nothing left of remote times to refer to, he really could 
not recollect my ancestors, though they might perhaps have 
been a very superhcfamille. On exhibiting, however, my En- 
glish and Irish pedigrees (drawn out on vellum, beautifully 
ornamented, painted and gilt, with the chevalier's casquet, 
three scarlet chevenels and a Saracen's head), and touching 
his withered hand with the metallic tractors, the old herald's eyes 
assumed almost a youthful fire ; even his voice seemed to 
change ; and having put the four dollars into his breeches- 
pocket, buttoned the flap, and then felt at the outside to make 
sure of their safety, he drew himself up with pride — 

" Between this city and Havre de Grace," said he, after a 
pause, and having traced with his bony fingers the best gilded 
of the pedigrees, '' lies a town called Barentin, and there once 
stood the superb chateau of an old warrior, Drogo de Barentin. 
At this town, monsieur, you will assuredly obtain some account 
of your noble family." After some conversation about Wil- 
liam the Conqueror, Duke Hollo, Richard Ooeur de Lion, &c., 

23* 



538 PEDIGKEE-IIUNTING. 

I took my leave, determining to start with all convenient speed 
toward Havre de Grace. 

On the road to that place, I found the town designated by 
the herald, and having refreshed myself at an auberge set out 
to discover the ruins of the castle, which lie not very far dis- 
tant. Of these, however, I cx)uld make nothing ; and, on re- 
turning to the auberge, I found mine host decked out in his 
best jacket and a huge opera-hat. Having made this worthy 
acquainted with the object of my researches, he told me, with 
a smiling countenance, that there was a very old beggar-man 
extant in the place, who Avas the depository of all the circum- 
stances of its ancient history, including that of the former lords 
of the castle. Seeing I had no chance of better information, 
I ordered my dinner to be prepared in the first instance,, and 
the mendicant to be served up with the dessert. 

The figure which presented itself really struck me. His 
age was said to exceed a hundred years : his beard and hair 
were white, while the ruddiness of youth still mantled in his 
cheeks. I don't know how it was, but my heart and purse 
opened in unison, and I gratified the old beggar-man with a 
sum which I believe he had not often seen before at one time., 
I then directed a glass of eau-de-vie to be given him, and. this, 
he relished even more than the money. He then launched 
into such an eulogium on the noble race of Drogo of the cha- 
teau, that I thought he never would come to the point ; and 
when he did, I received but little satisfaction from his commu- 
nications, which he concluded by advising me to make a voy- 
age to the island of Jersey. " I knew," said he, " in my youth,, 
a man much older than I am now, and who, like me, lived 
upon alms. This man was the final descendant of the Barentin 
family, being an illegitimate son of the last lord ; and he has 
often told me, that on that island his father had been mur- 
dered, who, having made no will, his son was left to beg, while 
the king got all, and bestowed it on some young lady." 

This whetted my appetite for farther intelligence, and I re- 
solved, having fairly engaged in it, to follow up the inquiry. 
Accordingly, in the spring of 1816, leaving my family in Paris, 
I set out for St. Maloes, thence to Granville, and, after a most 



TISIT TO JERSEY INCIDENT AT lYETOT. \y 539 

interesting journey through Brittany, crossed over in a fishing-, 
boat, and soon found myself in the square of St. Hillier's, at 
Jersey. I had been there before on a visit to General Don, 
with General Moore and Colonel 'le Blanc, and knew the 
place : but this time I went incog. 

On my first visit to Jersey, I had been much struck with 
the fine situation and commanding aspect of the magnificent 
castle of Mont Orgueil, and had much pleasure in anticipating 
afresh survey of it. But guess the gratified nature of my emo- 
tions, when I learned from the old warder of the castle, that 
Drogo de Barentin, a Norman chieftain, had been, in fact, its 
last governor ! that his name was on its records, and that he 
had lost his life in its defence on the outer ramparts. He left 
no lawful male offspring, and thus the Norman branch of the 
family had become extinct. 

This I considered as making good progress ; and I re- 
turned cheerfully to Barentin, to thank my mendicant and his 
patron the aubergiste, intending to prosecute the inquiry far- 
ther at E,ouen. I will not hazard fatiguing the reader by de- 
tailing the result of any more of my investigations ; but it is 
curious enough that at Ivetot, about four leagues fron Barentin 
(to an ancient chateau near which place I had been directed 
by mine host), I met with, among a parcel of scattered furni- 
ture collected for public sale, the portrait of an old Norman 
warrior, which exactly resembled those of my great-grand- 
father. Colonel Barrington of Cullenaghmore : but for the dif- 
ference of scanty black hair in one case, and a wig in the 
other, the heads and countenances would have been quite un- 
distinguishable ! I marked this picture with my initials, and 
left a request with the innkeeper at Ivetot to purchase it for 
me at any price ; but having unluckily omitted to leave him 
money likewise, to pay for it, the man, as it afterward 
appeared, thought no more of the matter. So great Avas my 
disappointment, that I advertised for this portrait — but in 
vain. 

I will now bid the reader farewell — at least for the present. 
This last sketch may by some, perhaps, be considered super- 
fluous : but, as a pardonable vanity in those who write any- 



540 PEDIGKEE-HUHTING. 

tiling in the sliape of autobiography, and a spirit of curiosity c^ 
in those who peruse such works, generally dictate and require 
as much information respecting the author's genealogy as can 
he adduced with any show of plausibility, I hope I shall be 
held to have done my utmost in this particular, and I am satis- 
fied. 



THE END. 



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